Letters from Kurt
by eloquentfever
Summary: AU to "Thanksgiving" and onwards. Kurt has been writing letters from his childhood days up until he was 18 – some to Blaine and some to Sebastian. Sebastian, Kurt and Blaine don't remember that they were childhood friends, but Kurt does. He gives Sebastian's directly, but sends Blaine's through a package, with a shocking response from Blaine. Sebangst, Kurt hurt, Blangst.
1. From Kurt, To Blaine – Part 1

_With each one of these "letters" would be a memory attached. They go from Kurt's childhood until his age right now. They're all set into the Anderson household (for the sake of this fanfic, Kurt's English tutor was Blaine's Father) and Kurt's knowledge of literature being implied in that letter he'd sent. Some chapters would be long (1000+), and other chapters would be short (1000). Some of them might just be one or two paragraphs. It really depends. I'm going to warn you for horrendously trigger-y material later on covered. There definitely is character death in this thing. Canon (Kurt's Mother), non-canon (might be Rachel, Finn, Sebastian, Burt, Blaine's Father, Blaine, Kurt, Cooper, etc—you don't know). There might or might not be rape, suicide, cutting, anything that can be seen in an angst story. There is also clear mentions of disorder (I'm talking narcissistic, histrionic and I'm trying as hard as hell not to put ED into this because I always do this). I haven't decided yet. _

_It's inspired by the song "Letter to Dana" by Sonata Arctica. If you've read anything of mine, you should know that there definitely would be an assload of angst – maybe not in the beginning, but it'll definitely escalate. :) none of this material is made to offend anyone and of course, if I owned anything, Kurtbastian would be canon and they'd be having peanut butter sex _

_xo Peanut Butter/Sam_

* * *

Title: Letters from Kurt

Rated: +13 – trigger-y material, language, possible anything really

Summary: AU to "Thanksgiving" and onwards. Kurt has been writing letters from his childhood days up until he was 18 – some to Blaine and some to Sebastian. Sebastian, Kurt and Blaine don't remember that they were childhood friends, but Kurt does. He gives Sebastian's directly, but sends Blaine's through a package, with a shocking response from Blaine. Sebangst, Kurt hurt, Blangst.

Genre: Angst/Drama

* * *

**#1 **

**[From Kurt, To Blaine – Part 1] **

* * *

Mr Anderson was a man that was proud to say that he had three sons. Two of them were blood-related – Blaine and Cooper – but one of them hadn't an ounce of Mr Anderson's genetics in his DNA.

Mr Anderson was an English teacher, a piano instructor, and a Father. To Blaine and Cooper, he was simply the Father. To this boy with brown hair, a rosy face and small, chubby hands, he was all three. Kurt was a small child about Blaine's age that came to him as a boy whom wanted to learn.

Kurt came around every day. Kurt walked from his school to the man's house, which wasn't far away. He had a cell phone with Burt on speed dial just in case anything happened to him. He stayed with Mr Anderson until Burt was done with his shift at early night and came to pick him up. Sometimes, the man's shifts were prolonged and Kurt had to sleep in the guest room.

Despite all of this, Kurt had never met either of his sons. He caught glimpses of both Mr Anderson's sons but had never talked to them. Mr Anderson trusted his student around his house, but Kurt simply isolated himself from the man's family.

Mr Anderson was now looking at Kurt whom sat on the couch. Blood and flesh had never meant so little as it did in that current moment. A physical bind from Father to son didn't necessarily mean anything unless the Father was a good man.

Mr Anderson knew that Kurt had a good Father, and his Father had always wanted the best for Kurt. Kurt wanted to be taught and Mr Anderson was assigned to teach.

Kurt was strange – sometimes quiet, sometimes loud. He was sometimes happy and sometimes sad.

Mr Anderson knew that the boy was badly injured today. He always came to him injured, and none of his wounds were accidentally self-inflicted because Kurt was a very careful boy.

"Would you pull your pants up for me?"

Kurt knew enough to trust the man, pulling the right leg of his baggy jeans up so that the man can inspect the wound. Mr Anderson knew from Blaine's injuries that this was most likely the small knee meeting with a hard surface – either the metal lockers or a table.

Mr Anderson pulled his drawer open. Unfortunately, he knew he had to keep a first aid kit in his office just because of Blaine's wounds – and now, Kurt's too. He had dressed the wound and smiled at the small boy that was looking up at him with confused eyes. How could anyone harm such precious children?

Blaine was knocking on the door. "Come in," Mr Anderson instructed, but Blaine wouldn't come in. He didn't want to come in when Kurt was around.

Kurt had never once seen Blaine in his life. He had no idea that years later, when they were both teenagers, they'd meet and fall in love. Kurt always knew what Blaine's family was like, how at home he noticed features of Blaine's Mother and Father in him – Blaine was his childhood in ways that Blaine would never understand. Blaine never realised that Kurt was that boy that his Father taught.

Mr Anderson sighed to Kurt. "Just a moment," he opened the door slightly so that Kurt in the corner can see how Blaine looked like. He had a mass of black curls, hurt hazel eyes, and a broken smile on his lips. Kurt stayed in his corner, and watched as the boy complained. Mr Anderson went to take the first aid kit, shut the door and Kurt can hear screaming. Kurt knew that this meant that Blaine needed hydrogen peroxide on his wounds. Blaine's wounds had to be severe then.

Mr Anderson came back inside after fourteen minutes according to Kurt's Spiderman watch, and he looked up with a soft expression. "He'll be fine," Mr Anderson insisted.

Kurt shook his head as he thought of words he wanted to say. He found them. "Does Blaine have any friends?"

"Not in particular, no," Mr Anderson frowned at the thought. "Do you want to be his friend?"

Kurt shied away as Mr Anderson placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, you know," he muttered. "You don't have to be his friend. He's very shy anyway. He won't tell you anything. You can write him a letter if you want."

"A letter?" Kurt muttered under his breath, and stared up with him with glassy eyes. "I don't want to give him a letter…not right now."

"Then write him a letter and give it to him later," Mr Anderson shrugged.

Kurt didn't really know how much 'later', but he smiled and nodded his head. He opened the drawer where the man kept his papers. Mr Anderson gave him a polite nod, signaling to Kurt that he was allowed to use as much paper as he pleased. The man gave him a pencil. Mr Anderson watched as Kurt stuck out his tongue upon his upper lip in concentration. His eyebrows were knitted, and then he began to write.

* * *

_To: Blaine_

_Courage _

_From: Kurt_


	2. From Kurt, To Sebastian – Part 1

_to **WaitingForAKiss**, noooo why would i stick a knife in your heart i loaf you (and omg coming right up it might actually fit the plotline - i have a Klaine chapter to do before this - i'm alternating between Kurt & Blaine and Sebastian & Kurt so it's even, yessssss). to **Sarahamanda Klaine**, anddd i updated. ;D. to **everythingsklaine-nothinghurts**, that is nothing compared to what i have planned. yikes. you shold hold on to your very fashionable hat because it's going to be a bumpy ride. to **NightReaderTillDawn, **im blushing. here's more then! :D and to **PenMagic**, my cute idea won't stay cute for long i hope. :P _

_but it will be long i know because we're going from childhood to Kurt right now in Season 4 and beyond that as well.  
_

* * *

**#2**

**[From Kurt, To Sebastian – Part 1] **

* * *

It was a cold and dreary Monday when Kurt Hummel met Sebastian Smythe.

They had no idea that years from now, they'd be enemies. Kurt had a photographic memory, and most children didn't. Sebastian would forget about him, just as Blaine did.

Kurt watched as Sebastian stood in the cold. Kurt had his assignment in his backpack from Mr Anderson to do. Sebastian was shaking from how cold he was. Kurt wasn't that cold, but he wasn't as thin as Sebastian was either. He had pulled off his scarf, and then pulled it across Sebastian's neck.

Sebastian shook even more feverishly. "Don't kill me," was the small boy's plea. "Please, just don't fucking kill me."

Kurt was shocked. Mostly because he didn't hear one of the younger boys swear like this, and then, he noticed it – the fear in Sebastian's eyes. Sebastian's eyes were practically filled with tears right now. He was so small and fragile that Kurt was afraid to hurt him. "How would I kill you?" Kurt whispered, his voice was soft and he had an inquisitive mind.

Sebastian laughed. It was a sad laugh. It was the first one Kurt's ever heard in his life. Sebastian had grabbed the scarf, and tugged at his neck until he was constricted of breath. Kurt's eyes widened and Sebastian loosened the grip on the scarf that Kurt had given him.

"I wouldn't kill you," Kurt said, completely shocked by the boy's response. "Especially not by choking you to death with my scarf! I gave it to you so that you can feel warm."

Sebastian looked at Kurt with sad eyes. He didn't look like he believed him. "Why would you?" his hissed.

"Because you're cold and I'm not, so I'm going to give you my scarf right now when we're waiting, okay?" Sebastian nodded his head mutely and Kurt looked away. They waited, and Kurt slowly inched towards him just to clasp the taller boy's hand. "Am I warm?"

Sebastian slowly nodded his head. "Yeah, I think so," Sebastian shrugged his little shoulders. "Don't care anymore."

The bus had finally stopped and Kurt smiled at Sebastian. They both hopped towards the bus and sat at the very back of an empty bus. Kurt looked at Sebastian's face and then he asked.

"Do you mind waiting for the bus to come?" Kurt muttered. "I can't wait a lot. I'm very impatient. I'm Kurt Hummel by the way."

Sebastian seemed to think about this, and then he shook his head. "Sebastian Smythe and… I don't know." Sebastian looked down at his lap. "I don't know anything." He seemed more frustrated about the fact rather than annoyed.

"My name's Kurt," the boy said with a smile on his face.

"I know. You said that already," Sebastian looked away from Kurt's face.

Kurt laughed and shook his head. "See? You know my name!" he smiled widely. "You know stuff! You know that I'm Kurt, you're Sebastian, we're in a bus and you know that you're human! Did you know that you're very nice-looking?"

Sebastian blushed deeply. "No."

"Well, you should know," Kurt's smile simply widened. "I think you're the nicest looking boy in the world."

"Does that mean I'm beautiful?" Sebastian's eyes seemed to dilate at the thought of that, as if it was impossible for him to ever be seen as beautiful.

"Uh uh," Kurt nodded his head enthusiastically. "You're very beautiful."

Sebastian looked like he was close to tearing up again. He shut his eyes and Kurt held him close, as Sebastian cried in his shoulders. The driver didn't really look back and they were etching closer to their destination with every tear that fell out of Sebastian's eyes. "N-nobody's called me beautiful before," Sebastian sniffed at his small tragedy.

Kurt shook his head, beaming at him. "I'm somebody and I told you that you were beautiful."

They stopped by their destination. It was a three minute walk to his home, but he looked back at Sebastian, whom was sitting alone and pale. He frowned. "Are you gonna be waiting tomorrow?"

Sebastian slowly nodded his head. "I wait every day."

Kurt smiled weakly at the thought. "I wait every day too."

* * *

_To: Sebastian_

_My tutor told me to write letters and send them later. I don't know when that is. I guess it's just any time that isn't now when I'm writing the letter. I guess that means I can wait a long time before sending this letter. I'm not really a patient person. _

_I thought you were a liar, Sebastian because you say that you don't know anything and you say that you think you're not beautiful but you are really beautiful and very smart, and then I told my Dad about it and he said that some people just don't think they're very beautiful or smart, and it's not a lie because it's really true to them. I think that's one thing I don't know. Why people think they're stupid when they're smart or why people think they're ugly when they're beautiful. That isn't right._

_I think you were waiting for a long time today. I think you were waiting for someone to tell you that you're beautiful. Now, you don't have to wait anymore and you can hope on a bus. I don't know where it'll take you but I hope it's somewhere good. I hope you get a good view too. I hate it when you can't get a good view in a bus. _

_ I also hope my scarf keeps you really warm tonight because I heard that it's going to be colder tonight. _

_From: Kurt_

_PS. Want to know a secret? I think you look better in my scarf than I do. :)_


	3. From Kurt, To Blaine – Part 2

_to **Sarahamanda Klaine**, updated! :3 to **PenMagic**, i got it :'3 and much appreciated. i'm flaaaaaaaaaattered. to **A-bazooka-Fire**, Kurt is always an angel, especially kid!Kurt. :3 _

_im hungry and my iPhone has been stolens. also, people with iPhone 5s, holy fuck, how light is that shit?!_

_xo Peanut Butter/Sam_

* * *

**#3**

**[From Kurt, To Blaine – Part 2] **

* * *

Mr Anderson had never thought he'd have to put Blaine and Kurt ever in his life, but he had. Blaine was sitting in a corner, practically jittering from all the anxiety. He was fixing his tiny bowtie and suspenders all the time from the excessive concern that was pooling in his itty bitty stomach.

He glanced over at Kurt, whom only gave him a soft smile every now and then to remind him that he was friendly. Kurt would then return to the assignment that Mr Anderson was giving him.

Mr Anderson finally put a paper in front of Blaine and gave him a pencil. "Come on. Draw something and then after you're done, Kurt will write about it. Blaine, you can write about what Kurt's going to draw. It'll be a fun exercise! You can get to know so much about each other then."

Blaine slowly nodded his head. He looked like he was going to throw up though instead of draw. He took the pencil in his shaky hand and started to draw. Kurt noticed how Blaine's body language completely changed. He was really relaxed and focusing on whatever he was drawing.

Kurt had looked back to his paper and then slowly drew himself. He had drawn a picture of his Mother lying on his bedside. He was not a very good drawer, though he thought it was obvious it was a woman on a bed. His Father was there, holding her hand.

Kurt didn't draw himself in the picture, because he usually just observed from a corner. He was never really there. He thought it was interrupting wife-husband time or whatever that was. He just stared and he hoped to understand.

After Kurt was done, he gave Mr Anderson his drawing. He swayed a little on the chair he was sitting on and looked at Blaine. Blaine was drawing and then stopped. He erased whatever it was he was drawing and started again. He stopped, erased and started again.

By the fifth time, Blaine just crumbled up the sheet of paper and then threw it across the room. Mr Anderson leaned down and threw it in the bin. He placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I can't draw," Blaine muttered. "I can't do it. I'm sorry." Kurt seemed to notice how his voice trembled. Kurt was pretty sure Blaine can draw, but didn't think his drawing was good enough.

That made Kurt feel a little sad for the younger boy, as Blaine was given Kurt's drawing. Blaine wrote on it and didn't really look that invested in it. Kurt was just watching before the man gave Kurt his drawing back. Mr Anderson didn't look at what Blaine wrote, so Kurt had no idea what to expect.

He didn't expect this. Underneath his drawing was just one statement. _A man holding a dead woman's hand. _

Kurt looked at Blaine and a sudden fury boiled in his blood. "She isn't dead! She's my Mother! She's sick! She's not dead! She's not dead! She's not dead! She won't die! She won't die! I won't let her die!" he yelled, practically pulling his hair by his hands. Hot tears filled those broken blue eyes. He sniffed, and then left the room, dropping the piece of paper down. He knew his Mother was very sick, but she wasn't dead.

She wasn't. And she wasn't going to be.

Kurt found himself sitting on the stairs of the Anderson household. Mr Anderson said that Blaine sat down here to think a lot and now, he knew why, because Kurt can think properly sitting there. He looked down at the floor and kicked his feet up in the air as he thought. Kurt noticed Blaine was hiding behind a wall and staring at him. He seemed very small and genuinely sorry.

Kurt nodded his head. He didn't know what he was nodding his head for, but Blaine understood. He moved towards Kurt, and sat down beside him. He gave him a very soft smile and then placed his head on Kurt's shoulder. Blaine was very warm.

"I'm sorry," Blaine whispered.

"It's okay," Kurt said, even though he didn't mean a word of that. Blaine must've known because that only etched him to take Kurt's chubbier hand in his own, squeezing it as tightly as he could. "Why do they beat you up?"

Blaine shut his eyes. "Because I like boys."

"I like boys too." Kurt's lips quivered slightly as he repeated the realisation in his head. "I don't think I like girls though. I don't know. I don't know much."

"I think it's better that I don't know much," Blaine finally pitched in and this made Kurt's look down at the boy that was pressing his head against his shoulder. "People who know much are really sad. I think it's better if I don't know much because then the world can be anything. If I don't know that it's yellow, it can be anything in my head. I can think that books just changed colour magically and there's a secret code."

Kurt chuckled slightly. "Maybe," he finally said. "But you wouldn't know what colours are."

"A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet," Blaine finally said, and his smile widened. Now, he looked a lot healthier and more beautiful than scared Blaine. Rosiness restored to his cheeks. "I read that on my Father's nightstand. It's on a note next to my Mother's picture. I think that's what love is."

"My Father holds my Mother's hand when she's asleep. I think that's what love is," Kurt finally explained his point of view. "That's what I was trying to draw."

"I don't think you can draw love." Blaine finally explained. "It's different for everyone so I don't think you can really describe something that's different for everyone. I think two people fall in love when they find out that they think love is the same thing."

"So we can't be together then?" Kurt teased him with a smile. Blaine laughed and it wasn't a sad laugh. It was a happy laugh. Kurt wondered if Sebastian ever laughed a happy laugh.

"I don't think so," Blaine responded. That was the first time Kurt realised that eyes can laugh too.

* * *

_To: Blaine_

Thank you for making me happy. Now, I'm at home and I'm sad because my Mom is probably dying. I think you really made me see the truth. I asked my Dad what happens when people know the truth but they don't want to admit it – it's denial. I'm a person that's in denial a lot. I think I've always known that my Mom was dying but I didn't want to say it to myself. I'm sorry for screaming and making you afraid and pushing you away, and I think you might have found a little courage when you came to make me feel better. I don't know if I feel better now though. It's really dark, and my Mom is crying and my Dad is crying and I'm crying. There's a lot of crying. I don't know how to stop. The world looks like it's fuzzy and black and I don't want to live in it anymore. I think I want to go off into a really white land where nothing bad ever happens. I don't think that that exists. I just wish my Mom would stop crying so much.

_I asked my Dad if my Mom is dying and he said no. I think he's in denial too. I think he doesn't want to think that she's dying and we'll all be alone. I don't want to be alone. I don't know how to live without seeing her, or hearing her voice. I don't think I can live without all of her and the memories she gave me. I don't think I can live anymore. I know I will but I think it'll be an empty way of living. I don't know what to do. I'm probably not going to send this for a while because you seem to be sad a lot and this will just make you sadder and I don't want you to be sad. I don't ever want you to feel this sad ever. _

_I'm in my room now. My Dad just came in to tuck me in bed. I'm supposed to be sleeping. Have you ever had a day where you can't sleep? I can't sleep right now. I think I can't sleep because I think a lot at night. I don't want to think anymore. I think you're right and that I shouldn't know much, but that would mean that I wouldn't know you. I want to know you. I want to know really weird things about you, like what you like to eat and what your favourite song is. _

_Remember when you said that if it's not yellow then you can call it anything? In Gaelic (it's a weird language), it's Blaine. Blaine means yellow, so a Blaine by any other name would be just as bright. _

_From: Kurt _


	4. From Kurt, To Sebastian – Part 2

_****literally produced because of **WaitingForAKiss**. _

_to **Sarahamanda Klaine**, and updated. to **PenMagic**, Kurt's letters will vary in length that's for sure. also in content. especially as he grows older and stuff. i don't know when he gets older but when he does :P. to **Riki**, and shiny too! to **Disney's Darling**, yes, there will be angst. i haven't started with it yet. to **NightReaderTillDawn**_, _awwwwww! it's perfectly fine. i still grin when i get these reviews. i'm like: must update! then i've succeeded! Blaine is supposed to be a puppy. practically so. Sebastian is pretty different from canon Sebastian as a child, but he'll definitely become canon!Sebastian. personality definietly changes. and awww, yes, the realisation thing was fun to type. :3_

_excuse me but i have a Cadbury chocolate bar that is pretty much calling out my name. xo Peanut Butter/Sam  
_

* * *

**#4**

**[From Kurt, To Sebastian – Part 2] **

* * *

Kurt saw Sebastian on the bus stop today and he didn't look happy at all. He looked very sad. Kurt had stared into the boy's face and noticed how pale he was. He knew Sebastian was pale, but not this greyish sick pale.

Kurt frowned to himself and moved towards Sebastian. He smiled a little when he saw that Sebastian had Kurt's scarf protectively around his neck. Kurt didn't like seeing Sebastian so sad. It made him feel sick.

"Hey," Kurt dully greeted. He looked down at his Spiderman watch again and smiled to himself.

"That's a nice watch."

"Yeah?" Kurt asked, moving towards Sebastian so that they were only inches apart. Kurt looked at Sebastian's clothing. He was wearing a shirt that was thick and stripped. He had baggy pants and brown boots. That was it other than Kurt's scarf. "Do you like Spiderman?"

Sebastian shrugged. "Yeah," he dully stated.

Kurt smiled brightly. "You can be Gwen and I can be Peter."

Sebastian cringed slightly, and raised an eyebrow. "Why do I have to be the girl?" he huffed, furrowing his eyebrows together.

"Because," Kurt finally reasoned.

Sebastian didn't seem to get it, as he asked. "Because what?"

"Just because," Kurt explained, humming to himself. Kurt seemed really happy right now, which made Sebastian look even more depressed than he normally was. "Come on. I can totally hang at the back of the bus too. I'm like a spider."

"I can squash you like one hopefully," Sebastian muttered and then a small smirk settled on his lips. Kurt wouldn't know that Sebastian would have a signature smirk years from now. They were just boys that were a little lost in a big world. "At least I know your secret, Peter."

"Hey, that means that we're together." Kurt blew a metaphorical kiss towards Sebastian, whom shuddered.

"No, that's bad." Sebastian looked away from Kurt's eyes. "Boys can't be together with boys."

"But I like boys," Kurt finally said, trying to get Sebastian to think otherwise. He didn't want Sebastian to be one of those boys that would hate him just because he liked boys. "Please, Sebastian, don't…"

"My Mommy hit me today because I said I liked boys too," Sebastian's voice was very soft. "You shouldn't like boys. It's not good. It'll just hurt you."

Kurt's eyes completely widened at the statement that he'd just heard. "That's not okay if your Mother hits you," he whispered. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "She's supposed to love you."

"She does. Sometimes. Sometimes, she makes me all of this food, and get me all this stuff and hug me and tells me she loves me if I do something right, but when I do something wrong, she yells, and hits me and tells me that my Daddy won't want to do shit with me because I'm just a stupid, ugly bitch and that I should just go die. My Mommy doesn't love me right now, but she will. I'll make her love me."

Kurt seemed to process this with a straight face but couldn't. "I'm all spider magic. I'll make her love you. Besides, you're not a boy. You're Gwen, so we can be together if you want."

Sebastian looked up at Kurt and laughed. It was a genuine laugh. It was even more beautiful than Blaine's but that was just because Sebastian was sadder than Blaine so hearing him laugh was more rewarding than hearing Blaine laugh.

"Your laugh is really amazing," Kurt commented and Sebastian completely flushed when he heard that. "Do you have any friends other than me?"

Sebastian nodded his head. "Fake," he finally said.

Kurt frowned. The bus came along and he let Sebastian ride on his back, as he pulled him on back. Kurt cling onto the steel pole and twisted himself against it. "Told you I'm like spider flexible and stuff," he said, and Sebastian was just shaking his head. He leaned back. "You're the worst Gwen. Do something."

"I'm tired," Sebastian muttered, as Kurt prodded at his side. Sebastian inched forward, desperately giggling. "No, don't do that. I'm ticklish. If you put your hand near my side again, I'll hurt you."

"You're no fun," Kurt finally decided.

Sebastian looked broken hearted at that statement and looked out the window. "I'm sorry," he seemed to blame himself a lot. Kurt frowned and pulled Sebastian close so that he was resting his head on his shoulder like Blaine was doing a bit ago. He ran his hand down Sebastian's back to comfort him. Sebastian was shaking again but he didn't cry this time.

Kurt pulled Sebastian out of the bus and led him outside. They stood on the pavement and Sebastian nodded his head towards Kurt. He turned in opposite direction, looking ashamed and humiliated. He then looked back and had a small smile on his face. "My hero," Sebastian said, and Kurt blushed. Kurt's blush made Sebastian smile a little and that was enough for today.

* * *

_To: Sebastian_

_I will always save you._

_From: Kurt_


	5. From Kurt, To Blaine – Part 3

_i feel all over the place with this chapter, but overall, i'm happy with its production and stuff. to **NightReaderTillDawn**, who cares about homework dude there's Sebangst to be read. not in this one though. omg that means i'm doing my job well. i keep on thinking that people don't realise i'm trying to keep the tone as child-like as possible because most of it is being descried from Kurt's mind. you're seeing how he's viewing it and thus, the letter. i am a little sketchy about this chapter, but when i wrote the ending - i knew that this is where i wanted it to go, so therefore, it shall be as such! to **Disney's Darling**, i didn't even start with the angsty parts yet. to **PenMagic**, i think it'll be fun to write the whole transition from childhood friends to enemies with Kurtbastian and as well as childhood friends to lovers with Blaine, because it will fit by canon standards eventually. it's more of an extended backrgound story for the characters before they divulge into their canon characters. nobody stays the same whn they grow up. i think that's definitely shown the most in Sebastian - he's so cute and wimpy and sort of apthetic, but he is really just a kid. as he grows up, he's going to be different aka canon!narcissistic!Sebastian. it'll be fun to see that develop from this Sebastian. likewise for Blaine. _

* * *

**#5**

**[From Kurt, To Blaine – Part 3] **

* * *

Mr Anderson's smile faded, as he nodded his head. He had a phone in his hand and everything was too quiet. Kurt didn't really like the quiet much. It made him think bad thoughts.

Mr Anderson placed the phone down after the phone call, shutting his eyes too tightly. "Kurt, I'd have to leave you. Continue reading. Blaine's been sick for a while now."

Kurt slowly nodded his head, and looked back down at the book in his hands. Cinderella was just going to go to the ball, but all that Kurt can think of was what kind of sick Blaine was. He can't imagine a sick Blaine.

Mr Anderson left, and Kurt tried to pay attention. He liked his book very much, and he wanted to know the ending, but he can guess that it would be a happy one. Kurt needed happiness after all the sadness he was feeling day after day, but not today apparently. Today, he wasn't allowed to feel happy. He shouldn't be happy. Blaine was sick.

He pulled his book down and blushed, realising he really didn't know where Blaine's room was, but he was prepared to hunt. He stood up from the small chair he was in, and walking across the vast library. He hoped not to run into Blaine's older brother though. The thought made him sick. He didn't want to see Cooper, considering he yelled a lot and Kurt got anxious too quickly when he heard yelling.

Speaking of which, he hoped Mr Anderson didn't yell at him. He found the room very quickly, mostly because the door was still ajar.

Kurt peeked in, just to see how badly Blaine was sick. When he saw Blaine whimpering on his bed, his heart broke. Kurt knew that Blaine wasn't really that sick, but it still hurt him to see it. He can somehow see his Mother on that bed, completely pale, unmoving, and now, his heart was hurting him. He felt very sick all of a sudden and didn't do much.

Blaine cried out when his Father placed a hand on his shoulder. Kurt knew he was over exaggerating it, and Kurt knew he was more mature than most boys his age but he can't help but feel his heart hurt whenever he saw how much Blaine was shaking and cowering.

Blaine turned to one side, and threw up whatever was in his stomach. He sniffled, eyes watering, wide, hurt eyes. "Help," he called out, his voice soft and helpless. Mr Anderson pulled Blaine up, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Will you retch again?"

Kurt figured that meant 'throw up'. Blaine knew what he meant, because he sniffed and shrugged. He looked so small and sick that Kurt felt completely useless for doing nothing.

Mr Anderson was measuring Blaine's temperature now. "About 102…"

Kurt had scrambled to find the cabinet. He knew the kitchen enough to know that there were a bunch of Advil's in the upper cabinet. He found Blaine's stool and then stood up to get the bottle. He hoped that Blaine wasn't dead or anything by now. With the way he was acting, the thought was nearly possible – then he thought that Blaine probably just had a fever.

Kurt went to find a cloth, throwing it over his shoulder. He placed a bottle of water, and a cloth in a container, placing the bottle of Advil in the container as well. He also got another bottle of water from the fridge, pretty cold Kurt realised. He came back to Blaine's room, and practically surged in. He placed the container near Blaine's nightstand.

"Kurt?" Mr Anderson called out.

It didn't break Kurt from his focus. He gave Blaine an Advil, placing the fragile thermometer away from the bed, when it can possibly break. He gave Blaine the room temperature bottle of water to drink, and he drank it with a confused look on his face to what Kurt was up to. Kurt had poured a lot of cold water into the container, damping his cloth and took the half-empty bottle from Blaine's hand and shut it. He forced the boy to lay down as he placed the cloth over his forehead.

Blaine smiled weakly, though Kurt can tell Blaine had no idea what he was doing.

"Astounding," Kurt heard Mr Anderson call out.

Kurt smiled weakly at the man, flustering slightly. "Kurt, that was impressive. Where did you learn how to do that?"

"Uh, I take carer of my Mother when she gets feverish. She can't really…do much, and my Dad's at work so…" Kurt shook his head. "It's nothing."

Kurt would never know that this would be the bane of his existence as he grew older, that he'd take care of everyone in his world except himself because that was the way it always was. It was the way it was supposed to be, or so, that was the thought process behind those blue eyes.

"And who takes care of you when you're sick?"

Kurt just looked away, his eyes looking at Blaine, whom was now lulling to a deep sleep. "He'd need more juice and drinks when he wakes up," he whispered.

"Kurt," Mr Anderson's voice was soft.

Kurt's lower lip was trembling. "I don't know," he finally said. "I don't know who takes care of me when I'm sick."

Mr Anderson placed a hand on his shoulder, as he watched Kurt shift uncomfortably in his position. "What's it like to be taken care of?"

"Magical," Blaine called out in his sleepy stupor, yawning and then returning to his sleep.

Kurt looked up at Mr Anderson, shaking his head. "Magic doesn't exist, Mr Anderson," and he didn't understand why the man's eyes were so sad. Kurt wouldn't know until later on, that a child wasn't supposed to faced with so much logic at once. "I think it's why I left my Cinderella book and came to see Blaine, other than the fact that I don't like people being sick."

"Kurt," Mr Anderson was now rubbing Kurt's shoulder. "You do realise that there are good things in life, don't you?"

Kurt furrowed his eyebrows, and they knitted together. "Like what?" he whispered.

Mr Anderson shrugged, smiling. "Happiness, life itself, art, music, love," he added the last bit with an reinforcement. "Kurt, have you not been taking your pills again?"

Kurt nodded his head, and shut his eyes. "Why does nobody else have to take pills to feel happy?"

"You're special."

"People keep on asking me why I'm sad," Kurt looked down at his feet, shuffling and feeling uncomfortable. "I don't know how to answer them. I don't know why there's a lot of sadness in me, but I can't make it go away. I don't think Dad can afford taking me to a Doctor anymore, or give me pills, but that's okay."

"Why is it okay that you feel sad but everyone else is supposed to be happy?"

Kurt looked like he was thinking about this, but only for a moment. "Because people always tell me that you should always accept the way you're born, and I was born like…_this_, so I was meant to be sad."

"Nobody deserves to be sad, Kurt."

"Then why do I feel so sad if I don't deserve it?" Kurt asked, but he knew Mr Anderson didn't have an answer for that. He can see it in his eyes. Kurt chortled, and then his eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry. I'm going to take my pills. I promise."

"…that would be best, Kurt."

* * *

_To: Blaine_

_I think when you trust someone, you tell them your secrets, so this is what I'm going to do right now. I don't think I can give it to you yet, but I think I'll probably grow up to trust you, so if you get this – then you know I trust you very well. _

_Secret #1 – I was diagnosed with depression when I was six. People don't believe me because they don't think small children can be depressed, especially because we're not like depressed adults. Our emotion are all over the place, but we don't get the same pleasure from doing stuff the way most children do. _

_Secret #2 – I'm mature because I'm depressed and a lot smarter too. I didn't play with a lot of the kids, and don't like noise. I read a lot because I'm very alone most of the time, because I hate everyone and everything most days. I just want to stay in a room because everything hurts. I eat and sleep much and people always make fun of me for being fat and short, and that makes me hurt even more. _

_Secret #3 – Mom never calls me mature because she knows it's because I'm depressed and she doesn't want me to think it's a good thing. I know because I overheard her talking to my Dad once. _

_Secret #4 – I get really angry when people say they're feeling depressed, because sad isn't the same as depressed. People are stupid._

_Secret #5 – you probably will forget me, and I know that now, because your Father told me you forget a lot of things. That's okay. I want to forget me too._

_From: Kurt _


	6. From Kurt, to Sebastian – Part 3

_so here is a chapter. granted it's 3:06AM where i live and i should be in bed. should being the keyword here._

_to **anacia**, awwwwwwww. i take this as a compliment. to **Sarahamanda Klaine**, as always, new chappie. to **DarrenColfer**, awwww. more heartbreak on your way darling. here's a fluffy kitten. to **PenMagic**, i just liked typing Kurt's confession - childhood depression is a serious thing but nobody ever takes it as seriously. children just have all of these mental diseases sometimes. you know, a child cannot be diagnosed with a personality disorder until you're 18 (which makes sense - it's like something for Doctors to make sure they're not changing personalities all the time but some cases are SO obvious). to **20eKUraN11**, it's Kurt. he breaks my heart all the time :P._

_xo Peanut Butter/Sam_

* * *

#6

[From Kurt, to Sebastian – Part 3]

* * *

Kurt Hummel stayed at the bus stop, swaying his foot back and forth as he looked down at his feet. He stared at the watch, and then looked around with blue eyes.

He was very sad and nothing can stop that sadness. Kurt had looked back at his watch, as he sighed again, shutting his eyes.

"Sebastian?" he called out, just hoping that the brunette was around somewhere to tell him that he was coming, but he wasn't.

Kurt wasn't worried. He knew it in his stomach that nothing was wrong with Sebastian, because he walked Sebastian from his house to the bus stop this morning.

He couldn't stop shaking. He reached in his bag to look for his scarf and then remembered that he'd given it to Sebastian. This led him to cupping his face, as he tried to well the tears from forming.

"Sebastian?" he called out again.

Sebastian had left him alone, probably playing with everyone else he knew. Kurt had sighed out, and then this had led him to crumbling into his tiny hands, silently crying like he always had when he was this sad.

"I'm so cold," Kurt had whined, fidgeting. The bus wouldn't be here for another thirty minutes and Kurt couldn't stand the cold right now. He didn't know why. He was very fat, so that meant that he shouldn't be cold.

Maybe Sebastian froze to death.

When Kurt had that thought, he felt a scarf around Kurt's neck, and then looked up to be met with a soft, sweet smile that was Sebastian's own.

Kurt had tried to smile, but Sebastian put a finger on his lips. "No, don't," Sebastian had called out. "Don't try to be strong for me. Don't try to be happy just so I won't be sad."

Kurt was shocked at how quickly Sebastian had picked up on his thought process. "Y-you're really smart," Kurt stuttered, as he watched Sebastian sit down. "Aren't you cold?"

"I don't care anymore," Sebastian had said, his hands bare, and so was his neck. The brunette was visibly shaking and it made Kurt feel unhappy. He scooted closer to Kurt. "I think I'm warmer when I'm closer to you. I don't know why, but I'll sit closer."

"Aren't…you afraid people might say that you're getting too close to me and that I'm a boy and you're a boy and we shouldn't be this close?" Kurt spat out every racing thought that was in his mind right now.

Sebastian shrugged, and then gave a very soft smile. "Like I said, I don't care anymore."

"Hey, Sebastian," Kurt looked at him. "I'm a depressed person," he finally confessed. "Like I don't mean sad, I mean—"

Sebastian placed a finger on Kurt's lips, and he nodded his head, signaling that he knew the difference. Sebastian had shut his eyes, sitting backwards.

"I don't know why I told you that," Kurt confessed.

Sebastian shook his head, and he looked like he knew why. "Because you're so sad when you're alone and you want someone to understand, so you did, and it's okay. I didn't tell anyone else that my Mother yells at me and makes me hate myself sometimes other than you…I think you wanted to share something too, because you trust me," he had a very small smile on his lips.

Kurt slowly nodded his head. "I want to kill myself," he finally said, and his voice was so sure.

Sebastian just paled, clasping Kurt's hand and gripping it really tightly. "How?" Sebastian whispered.

Kurt thought about it for a moment. "I want to cut my wrists until I bleed out and die…I'd do it with the doors closed and I don't have to be sad anymore."

Sebastian stared at him for the longest of time, thinking about this. "But won't that hurt a lot more than your sadness?"

Kurt shook his head. "Nothing hurts like this sadness," his voice was soft.

Sebastian tightened his grip. "You must be really strong then, because you've lived with this sadness for a long time."

"Tell me something beautiful," Kurt whispered, as he looked into Sebastian's green eyes. "Make me not want to die." He begged.

Sebastian nodded his head. "You."

Kurt didn't know why he meant for that little while.

"You told me to tell you something beautiful so I did," Sebastian just shrugged as if it was obvious, and smiled weakly. "You."

Kurt's mouth was open, and his shoulders were shaking, but not because he was cold. He thought he was probably shaking from disbelief.

"Tell me something _I_ think is beautiful," Kurt whispered and then Sebastian shut his eyes, because Sebastian knew Kurt didn't think he was beautiful.

Sebastian placed a hand on Kurt's cheek. "I don't want you to die."

Kurt stared at Sebastian, and then collapsed on his lap. Kurt's eyes were filled with tears as he sobbed uncontrollably. Sebastian's hands were around Kurt's waist and Sebastian buried his head into Kurt's chocolaty brown hair.

"That's the most beautiful thing anyone's ever said to me," Kurt whispered, and Sebastian's hands were trembling as he tried to steady himself just to steady Kurt too.

That day, they didn't go on the bus stop together. Kurt had texted Mr Anderson and his Father and said that he was tired and that he was going home. His Father said he'd call him every hour just to make sure he was safe.

Sebastian texted his Father too and said that his Mother didn't care where he was at.

They just sat there for an hour, watching the bus come, refusing to leave, with Sebastian's hands tightly around Kurt's.

"Do you still want to kill yourself?" was Sebastian's first question.

Kurt had slowly nodded his head, as shame filled his eyes.

Sebastian nodded his head very slowly, taking that in, and then, he smiled weakly. "Do you want to kill yourself less than before?"

Kurt smiled and then nodded his head. The shame somehow disappeared from his eyes.

"Good," Sebastian decided, and Kurt can feel how cold Sebastian's hands were, and he can see the boy visibly shaking but Sebastian didn't ask for Kurt's scarf.

They sat together, and they thought together, not about each other, but they were in each other's presence. It was nice and comforting. Kurt then had to leave to go home, but Sebastian wouldn't let Kurt go without him. They rode on the bus together, and there was a lot of silence.

Kurt felt a bit sad again when Sebastian had to leave, and a lot colder. He went inside of the house, and smiled to himself. A sudden rush of love and happiness filled him, as he stared at beautiful picture frames.

"Momma, Momma, I don't think I want to die anymore!" maybe it was just a little hope that made him love the world again.

He had ran upstairs, and opened the door. He had stepped inside of the room, to see that his Mother was sleeping. He had ran to her hand, and caressed it. He gave it a kiss, and this was when she'd wake up.

"I don't want to die anymore," he repeated, his voice full of more animation and happiness than it had for years, and all for what? A boy?

He nudged her, but she didn't stir. He had fallen into a pit of sadness, as he cried. He cried because he knew what this meant. He tried to steady himself and look at options, that she wasn't…that. No, she wasn't allowed to die.

He nudged her again and then he called his Father. Burt ran in, checked her wrist, called 911 and there was a lot of crying. Kurt was in the hospital for most of the night when they told him that his Mother died. Kurt looked down at the ground.

His Father gave him a chocolate bar, and Kurt threw it up when he heard that his Mother died of a heart attack because of her high cholesterol, not because of her sickness. He hoped his fatness killed him too. He stayed in his Father's arms, silent. It was a very silent day with episodes of crying a lot.

Kurt swayed slightly, bit his lip, and then said it out loud. "I don't know how to live anymore."

Burt ran his hand through Kurt's hair. "Kiddo, you weren't really living before, you know?" he whispered to him, and Kurt nodded his head.

That night, he also saw Sebastian in the hospital because Sebastian was also always very sick because his Mother didn't take care of him very well. He paused to stare at Kurt, and he somehow knew. He just walked towards Kurt, and hugged him very tightly. He knew his Mother would hit him later and Kurt knew it too, but it really didn't matter.

"Say it again," Kurt begged.

"I don't want you to die," Sebastian said, his voice genuine and soft. Kurt let a sob fall out of his lips, as he nodded his head, and pressed himself closer to the brunette.

"What if I'm already dead?" Kurt asked, hoping Sebastian had an answer.

Sebastian smiled and then kissed his forehead. Kurt can see Sebastian's Mother eyes darken from where he stood and it made him feel uneasy but Sebastian didn't care. "Then don't die again." He smiled weakly, and then he left Kurt.

It was very cold again.

* * *

_To: Sebastian_

_I still I don't know if I want to kill myself less anymore. I think I want to kill myself more. I think you do too sometimes. I was in a really bad place, so I couldn't tell you that I think you're very beautiful too. I thought about it now, and I think about it alone. Our house is really silent, but it's not that kinda silent when you were holding me. That was a good silent and now, it's a bad silent, the one that leads to bad things happening. I have a knife in my drawer. I know I can kill myself and bleed out, but then I think you won't be happy anymore, and I don't think I can stand that because you cry so much already because you're sad all of the time._

_I learned one new word today. I know I learn quite a few words all the time because Mr Anderson a lot of different words. The word is mourning. I know it because he said that my Father is mourning and that's why I have to stay at the Anderson's tomorrow for like three whole weeks because my Dad is mourning and he's in a bad place and he can't take care of me. I think it was kinda like how I was in a bad place and I didn't remind you that you were beautiful because all I can think about is hurting myself and hoping that I would die._

_I never told my Dad that I want to die, because I think he wouldn't stop hurting and he already hurts a lot. I keep on thinking that you might be confused that I want to hurt myself, because all you want to do is run away from pain because you always feel it because your Mother is really horrible. I finished Cinderella tonight. There was a lot of magic and things that would never happen, but I think that you're like Cinderella and there's that evil stepmother – except it's really your Mother – and I think you're gonna be saved._

_I hope I'm the one that saves you, because I promised that I'm always going to save you and I can't do that if I'm dead and I never break a promise. If I'm going to die, I'm going to make you hate me because then I can die and you will be happy that I'm dead. I hope I don't have a funeral because that means I made people sad. _

_I shouldn't be alone. I don't have very good thoughts when I'm alone. _

_From: Kurt_


	7. From Kurt, to Blaine – Part 4

_review responses!_

_to **Sarahamanda Klaine**, when do i not update soon? to **XxRachelAnnexX**, aww. i ship Kurtbastian the most but this thing will have all of them., some Kurtbastian, some Klaine, and maybe Huntbastian hmmm. you got me thinking about it. to **Disney's Darling**, ANGST ANGST ANGST i love angst so much i don't think you realise just how much i do love angst. to **PenMagic**, yeah. a lot of children with ADD and ADHD actually also suffer from depression so there's a whole line of possibilities of how they can act and things! to **rooz33**, i have no idea to be honest. i think i'm just gonna write letters until i think that we've come to an ending, but i can tell you now that i have a LONG way to go. :)_

_this chapter i loved writing xo Peanut Butter/Sam_

* * *

#7

[From Kurt, to Blaine – Part 4]

* * *

Mr Anderson was not a very good observer he had to admit. Kurt was the one that had pointed out to him that Blaine looked like he'd been bullied.

After a talk with Blaine had only given him confirmation, Mr Anderson longed to wonder what state of mind Kurt Hummel must be in to notice the smallest of changes, and then realised the state upon seeing Kurt stare outside a window and made a small comment about the unusual weather – it was the mind of a boy that did not want to change at all, so he spotted the smallest bit of change because it made him uncomfortable.

It was harder for Kurt not to notice or observe things than it was to observe. Mr Anderson was both astounded and concerned for the young boy that seemed to analyse everything with a blink of an eye.

"Kurt?"

Kurt shifted from where he was. He'd been very silent now. Kurt had looked up to see the man that seemed to be thinking again, and Kurt knew he was wondering how Kurt was the way he was.

"I'm _sorry_," Kurt whispered. His voice was weak and that usually made people think that something was wrong, when Kurt didn't want them to know. "I really am," he tried to sound stronger, but it just felt really whiny to Kurt's ears.

Kurt watched as Mr Anderson stared at Kurt for the longest of time, pushing the tray of biscuits he had in the middle of the table towards him. Kurt didn't know why people did this as he was a hippo.

Kurt pushed the tray back towards him. The next time it was pushed back to Kurt, it was Blaine's tiny hands that were doing it.

"You lost weight," Blaine had said, his voice soft. "You look tinier. You're losing weight all the time."

Again, Mr Anderson was stunned because he didn't even notice the few pounds that Kurt had shed, but Blaine had. It made him wonder about his own son's observation skills, and what caused them to be completely alert to change.

Kurt shrugged, and then stared back at the tray. "It doesn't matter. I'm _much_." He said. "I'm much! I'm much! I'm much! _I'm much_!"

Blaine nodded his head, but then smiled. "Yeah, you're much! You're much strong, much good, much heart, much, much, much, but you're not fat much. You aren't—"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Kurt yelled back, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as hot tears filled those blue eyes again. If anything, he had been much – crying much, screaming much, shouting much.

Kurt had grabbed the tray by its handle, smacking it towards the floor. Some biscuit pieces had fallen onto the ground and Kurt had stomped on them, crushing them with the heel of his shoes.

He grabbed biscuits by his hands, crushing them, as he sobbed. His chest hurting. He collapsed onto the tray, grabbing a huge piece of soft biscuit that was still on it.

"Fat, I'm fat, I'm fat, I'm fat!" Kurt yelled repeatedly, shoving a biscuit in his mouth and then choking. He took another handful, shoving a multitude of them down his throat. Blaine jolted with every choke, and Mr Anderson had pulled Kurt from his position on the ground.

Crumbs of biscuit was still on his hands, and he was humiliated at what he'd done. He was embarrassed that he was still crying so much.

"Much…" Kurt repeated, hiccupping, as he felt the sudden uneasiness in his stomach. "Much, I'm much…I'm fat…" he shook his shoulders, but had dulled down quite a bit.

"Hush now, Kurt." Mr Anderson had called out, at a loss of what to do to the boy.

Blaine moved towards him, not knowing what to do but gave him the 'I'm so sorry this had to happen to you' look, and Kurt read it very well.

"I'm tired," Kurt had summed up his feelings all at once. "I'm really, really tired. I'm really sorry, Blaine. You look really…really…really scared and I…"

Blaine shrugged and found a soft smile through his confusion on what to do and what not to do. "I don't know what you're sorry for, Kurtie."

Kurt nodded his head and pulled himself out of Mr Anderson's hands. "I can't stand in a room with people right now. I'm sorry. I'm gonna go and lie down somewhere where there are no people and think by myself. I need to be alone right now."

Blaine nodded his head and then bit down his lower lip. "Don't let the bad thoughts get you! They will make you feel even sadder and make you cry in your sleep!"

Kurt left, feeling a bit nervous but did nothing about it. He found a small room, and just sat down. At first, he was thinking, but it didn't last. It ended with him sleeping. He was very tired when he fell asleep, and he was very tired when he woke up again.

He just wanted to stay in this place, where nothing existed and nothing can happen. Nothing will change if he stayed here.

* * *

_To: Blaine_

_You said you don't know what I'm sorry for. I'm sorry for being really sad all the time and for yelling and screaming and I'm sorry for my breakdown in your Dad's office and I'm sorry that I hate you so much because you have a healthy Mother and she loves you and your Dad isn't sad and in mourning and you don't have to hurt whenever you look at him because your Dad's not in pain because he lost someone he can never have again. I'm sorry I hate you because you're not depressed and you've got a nice family and a pretty house. I'm sorry that I lied to you because I don't hate you and I don't think I can hate you because you're really innocent and cute and I think I scared you a bit so it balances out all the things I hate about you. I'm sorry that I hate myself so much and you have to see it, because I know you don't want me to be hurt but I can't figure out why because all I ever want to do is hurt me._

_From: Kurt_


	8. From Kurt, to Sebastian – Part 4

_sorry for the delay in this chapter. i'm back to my med school so updates are not going to be as frequent, but i want you to know that i will eventually update everything that i do write._

_to **Sarahamanda Klaine**, andddd chapter. to **PenMagic**, omg Sebastian in this chapter is like...possibly diverging towards near canon i'd say. the most canon i've written him so far as a child. to **XxRachelAnnexX**, :( i'm sorry that i don't know why but my PM stuff doesn't work properly all the time 'cause of my country's service provider just hating me. i might PM you when it hates me less. if it's trigger-y, it's okay if you don't read it. don't want to cause anything. to **D**, and yesss more will be on the way. and awwwwww, i know that feeling! i will continue. don't worry xo Peanut Butter/Sam_

* * *

#8

[From Kurt, to Sebastian]

* * *

Kurt had sat there by the bus stop bench. He had pulled out his container of food from school that he didn't eat yet. He had looked down at his container, which consisted of three California sushi rolls.

He had picked up a piece of it and cautiously bit into it. He looked around, hoping that Sebastian wouldn't show up when he was eating but hoping that he did too because being alone was making him really uncomfortable.

He didn't like eating in front of people, because it made him feel even bigger.

He couldn't eat at school today because they were picking on how _much_ he was, and Kurt knew he wouldn't have enjoyed eating it so why bother eating in front of people that were going to make him not enjoy his food?

He took another bite out of his food. He was a very quick eater, but he didn't know how bad or good this was. Most people told him it was bad, but he didn't like spending a lot of time with food at all since he thought people judged him for it.

He finished one of his rolls and put the lid back on, looking for Sebastian. When it was closer to the time that Sebastian would usually come, Kurt got really worried because there was no sign of the brunette.

That day, Kurt hopped on that bus without Sebastian and sat in his loneliness. He used to do this all the time, but now, he was really aware of how lonely he was.

He looked down at his watch, and buried his head in his hands just to cry.

* * *

It had been days with no sign of the brunette. He had received no word of where he was, and Kurt felt very lonely all the time, because he was still waiting. He wondered if Sebastian was dead, and the thought made him uncomfortable.

When he'd gotten off the bus stop, he'd written a text message to his Father and said that he was going to the corner store. His Father would believe him, because Kurt was always hungry because of his clinical depression and it made him eat a lot.

He had walked towards where he knew Sebastian's house was at, and saw that there were no cars or anything.

He had stepped inside of the house, tip-toeing. He was very good at this, considering that he used to sneak in to hear his Father and Mother's conversations when she was sick. Remembering this made Kurt feel like he was going to throw up.

He had tried to be as quiet as possible, looking to and from corners before he passed rooms. The house was empty, and it was just filled with so much silence that it was actually kind of loud.

Kurt had walked up the stairs. He checked the first few doorways and found Sebastian's Mummy, which was a woman with curly-blonde hair that was pretty asleep. She looked happy, but he wanted to go up and tell her not to sleep with make-up on her face.

He did know that her chest wasn't natural. They didn't make those…_things_ that big. He'd seen fake ones before, and they looked like _that_.

Kurt had stepped backwards; shut the door as silently as possible. He was pretty sure she slept with a man because he can see there was someone else, but something in Kurt's stomach told him that it probably wasn't Sebastian's Father.

He had looked through the other rooms. A few maids passed around and he hid behind tables. They were in a lot of rush for no reason at all. He had opened up the last doorway in a really empty hallway, just to see that Sebastian was on a bed.

He had shut the door as slowly as he could so he didn't make a sound and then practically ran towards the boy on the bed. Kurt's heart was hurting him, and he didn't know what to do.

He couldn't take in that image of Sebastian. He was pretty deep into sleep? – No, not sleep. He probably passed out. This wasn't even the scariest bit – it was the fact that he was littered with bruises, and cuts.

Kurt's eyes trailed down from his face, where there was a large gash on his forehead that looked like it needed a Doctor's attention. There was bruising on Sebastian's nose, and his right cheek. This trailed down to his jaw.

There was a cut on his lower lip, and another cut dragging across from his neck to his right cheek. Kurt pulled the sheets off him, just to assess the damage. Kurt's hands were shaking, bringing Sebastian's hand upwards to stare at the amalgamation of bruising that were in shades of purple, blue, red, an even a smidgen of yellow.

He didn't want to look at anything else. That was when Kurt landed on the cigarette burns at the back of Sebastian's hands, and even one just above his elbow. He shuddered.

"Sebastian?" he called out.

Kurt suddenly paled. What if he was _dead_? With the state of this beating, he looked like he was. Kurt quickly checked his pulse, something he learned when he kept on telling his Father he worried that his Mum was dead. Kurt had realised that Sebastian still had a pulse.

Sebastian groaned once, pushing Kurt away and turning to the other side. Kurt had walked over to the other side to see that Sebastian's eyes were wide open. Lifeless green eyes were the source of tears that were falling so freely and soundlessly from his face.

"Sebastian?" Kurt called out again, his voice softer than the first time. "You're…really, really hurt and it's making me feel sick."

Sebastian shrugged, as if he didn't know what to say to that. He opened his mouth, initially wanting to say something. His eyes then darkened. "Leave," he finally said, his voice was very adamant.

"Sebastian?" Kurt repeated again, not recognising the darkness in this boy's eyes.

"Leave!" Sebastian yelled out, sitting up straight. Kurt jolted upwards, not sure if it was okay for Sebastian to do that when he looked so physically hurt. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—_I hate you_!"

Kurt didn't know what changed him so much, but it wasn't anything good. He can see all this spite in Sebastian's eyes that he'd never seen before. "Sebastian?" Kurt called out, sounding shocked and confused, because he was.

Sebastian placed his head in his hand, wiping away his tears. "I don't know you," he finally said, shaking his head. "Go away."

"Sebastian, it's _Kurt_—it's—"

"Get the hell out of my face," Sebastian snapped, eyes still as dark as a storm, as hard as stone. Kurt just wanted to help, but Sebastian was pushing him away.

"You're hurt! You need me!" Kurt yelled out. He was confused at why Sebastian was acting like this, but he didn't want to know. Knowing might hurt, but if knowing would help Sebastian, then he'd figure it out. "You need me, Sebastian!"

"I don't need anyone, Kurt! I don't need you. I don't need anyone. Everyone sucks. I hate everyone!" Sebastian finally explained. He had left his bed, wobbling on his legs because of the pain. Kurt had moved towards him, trying to help him up by the shoulder but Sebastian pushed him off. "What the hell did I just say? Leave! Leave! Go away! I don't like you! I _hate_ you!"

Sebastian shut his eyes, because he knew just what those words meant. He knew that Kurt was very sad all the time, yet he used words that would really hurt him _on purpose_.

Kurt finally silently left. Sebastian was unsteady and looking like he was trying not to pass out again. He was biting on his lower lip so hard he was drawing blood.

Kurt watched as Sebastian enveloped his stomach, and then threw up in a waste basket whatever was in his tummy. Sebastian ran his hand through his hair, shaking a lot and Kurt can see that he was trying not to shake but it was out of his control.

"Help," Sebastian finally called out, his voice sounding teary.

Kurt stared at him for the longest of time, took a deep breath, and then shut the door as he left.

* * *

_To: Sebastian_

_This might be the last letter I write to you. I don't like you anymore. I wanted to help you. I really did, but you shot me down…like four or five times, so when you asked me to help you, I just couldn't. I couldn't help you after you told me that you hated me. You made me go to a really bad place in my head again, where all I want to do is die. I used to eat and sleep all the time 'cause I was really depressed, and now, I can't eat and I can't sleep because all I can think of is how you looked like or I start thinking about my Mother (she used to force herself to get up because she wanted me to eat her food – I guess that's also why I comfort ate a lot 'cause it was stuff my Mother made and she always made me a lot of food and always told me to clear my plate). _

_I'm writing this about three months after that happened, because I just heard from this nurse in the hospital that used to give me my meds for my depression that you left to go to Paris. I hope you're happy there (I'm not being sarcastic or spiteful – I really do hope so). I'm sorry I didn't save you like I promised I would. This means that I'm a big, fat liar. I am actually big and fat. I still am even though I don't eat. I don't know how this works, but I don't care anymore. Mr Anderson is really worried about me. He's been giving me stuff to read because I won't talk to him. I don't want to talk to anyone._

_I don't know how to end this, but I'm in a really bad place right now and I just want to _

_I just want to_

_I don't know._

_ I'd say I want to die but I'm too tired to die. It's a lot of effort and I just want to sleep all the time, but I never can. I just want to sleep and just never wake up because it's just too hard right now. I have to pretend to be okay when my Dad asks because he's also grieving and I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I trust you._

_It kinda hurts like Hell that I realised that you don't trust me at all. _

_From: Kurt_


	9. From Kurt, to Blaine - Part 5

_don't mind me i have no laptop this was written on notes on an iPhone so excuse the mistakes and shit can't make review responses as easily so_

_After this there's a huge time skip to Season 1 Kurt at 16_

_Xo Peanut Butter/Sam_

* * *

#9

From Kurt, To Blaine - Part 5

* * *

"You gotta help me," Burt began with quite a bit of desperation and despair in the elder Hummel's voice. "Joe, times are tough. I don't have a job. Liz used to work, you know? Now, I'm looking for one and I'm not ready to move in her sister's house. Too many damn memories. Call me cheap, but it's where I proposed too. So it's just..."

Mr Anderson was about to respond to Burt's plea, but Burt continued to speak, pouring out his soul to his son's tutor. "I can't afford this house anymore and I wanted somewhere Kurt knows. Don't mind if you say no, won't stop letting Kurt go to your house every damned day 'cause he likes it there. Kurt. Kurt's worrying me. He's tired. He's alone. You've seen it too. At least take him in."

"Damn you, Burt Hummel. I'll take you both in," Mr Anderson smiled. "I'll pick Kurt up from school tomorrow, alright? I know you'll be busy so I'll do it."

"Thanks, Joe. You're a 5 dollar bill in a middle of 1s." Burt sounded out. "Make sure to repay you. Gonna make Kurt ask for Blaine's hand."

Mr Anderson laughed. "Oh, one can only wish. They are confusing children."

Mr Anderson picked up a lonely-looking Kurt from school whom stayed silent. Kurt had gone off to the man's study the minute they'd gone home.

As days passed, Mr Anderson would soon realise Kurt would remain immersed in his study, escaping in fairy tales and words of imagination. He had no interest in talking to Blaine, or seeing anyone. He remained confined in his own little world, unhappy there but certain he'd feel worse when he was with people. Emptiness was evident in the boy's eyes.

Burt knew that Kurt didn't take his prescribed pills at all. He'd rather sit down and stare at the pills he had to take, but they never made it towards his mouth. He took one once, but that was only because Burt was begging him.

Kurt was confused to say the least. He didn't feel like he deserved to be happy, so he just locked himself in a room. He'd get bored so he read and then, he wept. He didn't know why he didn't deserve to be happy sometimes, and wondered how people can feel this sad all the time. He felt like he was whining about nothing because Sebastian was beat up to near death and he wasn't this sad.

It was on a Friday morning where Wicked's music was blaring from the television and Kurt recorded the musical, watched it on repeat until he learned the words of the song. On Monday morning, Kurt's voice would fill the house. He sung, and repeated the song until it was perfect to his ears. Like the books, this was just a way to fill up his time because he might not want to be happy but he also wanted something to escape in.

Depression was confusing.

Real things weren't so real anymore. Kurt didn't feel like his body, heart and mind belonged to them. He didn't feel like he was living.

Kurt didn't know Blaine was watching sometimes, listening to Kurt sing. Blaine was really happy hearing Kurt sing. He thought this meant Kurt wasn't as sad anymore, but Kurt was always sad.

"Do you want to come out now?" Blaine asked, looking at Kurt from his Father's study. "We can play. Your Daddy found a job."

Neither knew this would be their last conversations for a while now - years would pass until they'd meet each other again.

Kurt nodded his head. "I want to play."

"Okay," Blaine nodded his head. "Let's go play. I'll let you be Tony Stark and I never let anyone be Tony Stark."

Kurt looked away. "No. We can't."

"But you said you wanted to play." A confused Blaine explained, furrowing his eyebrows.

"We can't play. Not today, not ever," Kurt looked down at his lap.

"That's sad," Blaine chimed in, his voice shocked and hurt for Kurt. "I don't know what to do if I can't play."

Blaine stared at Kurt for a bit before leaving. That book Kurt was reading was the only book Kurt had never finished in his whole life.

* * *

_To: Blaine_

_If you can't play then you can just sit down and be sad all day then feel like too many people care about how sad you are and feel even sadder and its like you're burning in a fire and you see everyone around you drinking water. You want the water too, but you hurt too much to lift a hand and grab a glass so you just stay there burning because you don't want to save you. You want someone to save you but at the same time you don't want anyone to care. _

_From: Kurt_


	10. From Kurt, To Sebastian - Part 5

From Kurt, To Sebastian - Part 5

* * *

Sixteen year old Kurt's Saturday errands included getting a carton of milk, a loaf of bread and a box of bottled water early in the morning.

It was specifically seven in the morning when Kurt had somehow managed to get out of bed. It was a day where he had to wear a hat considering that his hair was frankly appalling.

Attending McKinley had left him quite guarded of everything around him. One of the tactics he did pick up was noticing the faintest of sounds and the most unimportant details, something he used to do to calm himself down when a jock decided to remind Kurt that he was trash.

Despite this excessive bullying, the brunette had long ago been pulled out of his depression - somewhat at least. His pills were still regularly gotten and Kurt had to regularly take them else he'd fall back in old habits.

Years of depression had left him into increasing changes in his habits - sometimes he slept too much but sometimes, he didn't sleep at all. Sometimes, all he did was eat and sometimes, he barely lifted the fork.

Finally, the boy's sleeping and eating habits were starting to resemble a normal person's. He tried to be as healthy as possible with his food and sleeping habits, but still frequently indulged in the odd calorific cheesecake or stayed up way more than he was supposed to.

He still had a good life... Maybe, if people stopped harassing him and belittling him for his clothing choices.

His Father let him wear whatever he wanted, and Kurt loved this small act of love that his Father had subdued to. Kurt was thinking about it, as he hummed under his breath to busy himself with song and serenity when he was deciding which low-fat milk product he should buy.

That was when Kurt had caught the man at the cash register. He was standing beside a man that looked down lovingly at the teenage boy, but there was something about the boy that had caught Kurt's attention.

He was younger than him, by at least one or two years. He can tell by his clothing even though the teen was lanky.

The brunette was pulling out groceries from the cart. Kurt inched closer to appear to be inspecting crisps just to spy on them. He can see that the brunette was wearing a scarf – Kurt immediately recognised it as his own because of the colour scheme and the little splash of chocolate milk that had left the smallest patch on the upper part.

"Sebastian," Kurt whispered under his breath.

"Sebastian, your Mother is going to kill us if we're late by one minute and you don't want us to miss our flight to Paris. Damn that woman. Why couldn't she pick up groceries herself? It's not like she's going to eat any of them what with her trying to keep her model like figure and what not." The man, whom was probably Sebastian's Father, ranted to the teenage boy. "What's that?"

Kurt was more than shocked at the amount of concern that was in the man's voice, the shift in tone, as Sebastian's Father leaned closer to pull at the boy's sleeve where there was a small yellow and purple bruise and adjacent to that a burn. "Where did you get that?"

Sebastian didn't even look startled about being found out, as he shrugged. "The bruise is cause I slipped in the bathroom like a fucking idiot and the burn is from the lighter when I was trying to light up my cigarette," Kurt nearly believed the brunette himself.

He was not shocked about the spite and anger in Sebastian's voice, remembering the clear and lucid vision of what seemed like a dying Sebastian lying in bed so helplessly.

With that image, a fire burned in Kurt's stomach. He was angry at the small boy's proclamations of hate even to this date, but at the same time, he can see the childlike response even in this Sebastian.

He may not be bursting into tears every five seconds and shaking with fear or pain, but that was only because Kurt knew that the boy had adapted.

His stomach sunk as he realised this was probably because the brunette had realised even though he was crying out for help, nobody would come to his rescue so he'd stopped crying out for it.

"You smoke?" The man asked and Sebastian nodded his head as slowly as possible. "Always knew you were gonna be like your Mother."

That disturbing comment made Sebastian look like he was being punched in the gut.

His eyes were simply burning and brimming with pain and perish. "Yeah. Whatever," he tried to forgo it.

Kurt watched them leave together before he turned and for the first time in a long time, he was too distraught to care and shoved anything in the cart just to go to pay again.

He got a clear view of Sebastian being hugged by his Father and what shocked Kurt was Sebastian's lack of response because he didn't know how to respond to care.

The cashier had to repeat the price of the items five times before Kurt had snapped out of his reverie.

* * *

_Dear Gwen,_

_I hadn't written to you in years. I'm doing fine - most days that is, which is ironic considering that bullies have taken a liking to create a Kurt-sized dent in any harsh surface. You have grown into a very attractive man, even though I can tell from a distance that if I said a word to you, I would detest you still, mostly because you said you've hated me once. As a human, I knew that logically you were in a horrible place, but I was in a horrible place too and you've used that against me. You may be fragile, but I've been broken too many times that that statement was the end-all for me._

_I cannot believe your Mother still has a knack for creating a Jackson Pollock masterpiece with an amalgamation of cleverly placed bruised and burns. I still get nightmares about that day that I walked into your room and thought you were dead. _

_I hope you land safely in Paris, and I hope you revel in the city of so-called dreams. I hope you think of me whenever you wear that scarf and realised that sometimes people do kind deeds to other people for no reason at all._

_Love, protect and honour,_

_Peter Parker._


	11. From Kurt, to Blaine - Part 6

_what i've decided to do that instead of skipping S01 events and skipping right to Blaine, and then skipping from S02 to S03, that i'm going to be incredibly horrible and actually write out the events of the seasons. i'll not concentrate through all of season 1 and will skim through some episodes or combine 2 or 3 episodes together. although Kurt doesn't see either of them in that time period, he's still writing letters to them. so be prepared for this._

* * *

From Kurt to Blaine, Part 6

* * *

Kurt thought of Blaine today because he simply found himself one of those extravagantly sunny sweaters that were burning as bright as the sun, and remembered the fact that Blaine was Gaelic for yellow.

He thought of Blaine often. Sometimes, he looked through Burt's extensive, never-ending collection of photographs just to see if he can find a picture of Blaine. Sometimes, he reread the letters he made as a child and realised that he lacked in his ability to explain emotions. He didn't know how to say that there was a lack of pleasure in everything in his life.

He remembered that too well now that he was able to illustrate it more properly. He wondered how they'd be able to tell with other children. Most times now, if he'd ever feel the depression weigh him down, he'd feel a sudden surge of frustration fill his body that ended up with him crying and locked in his room for what felt like hours. He swore that he'd choke on his tears, and that the world was a weight on his chest that was crushing him relentlessly.

Then he'd move through the world in some sort of state of numbness. He'd forgot what time it was, who he was, what he liked and what he didn't, simply because he felt like there was no reason for him to exist considering that he lacked pleasure in things that he used to love, in arts, in relationships, in food, and those were the harder days back then. He'd been able to illustrate them right now, that boy that felt a constant guilt in his boots and continued to feel worthless despite that he'd done nothing wrong.

He'd taken singing as something that he can do when he felt that way. Soon, his songs of somber had turned in songs of glee. Some days it was the mere opposite. He remembered to take his pills now without his Father having to remind him every goddamned moment of the day. He will always commend himself for that because he'd constantly skip his dose if his Father was not around. After wearing the yellowish sweater, he had decided to do his hair.

He'd then proceeded to give up on his hair when he realised it was just an incredibly bad hair day for him, and found himself a hat that did go with the yellow sweater – a hard feat he'd say.

His Father had made him breakfast beforehand, and Kurt glared at Burt. "Who is my sandwich dripping from cow fat?"

"Because the cow has more fat than you and dammit to Hell, I don't like that," Burt finally responded to his son's question.

One thing that Kurt knew that Burt did not like was the fact that Kurt had been gradually losing weight as the years had gone by, going from his obese frame as a child to a rather thin frame right now, or so Burt defined it as. Kurt knew he looked like the average male. He had a bit of fat on him to lose if he wanted to lose it, but he'd rather not go into insane crash diets for no apparent reason.

"Heard that Sandy guy is out," Burt said, indicating something to Kurt. Oh, dear Chanel, this was bad – this meant that he was snooping around for opportunities with the so called school Glee club. Yet _again_. "And there's that Spanish teacher, the one you like, coaching."

"I'm aware of what happens in my school, Dad," Kurt was getting unusually frustrated with his Father already, as he looked down at the mess that was breakfast. He decided to take a sip from his milk…which was of course, full-fat milk. "What is this about? Cut to the chase now. We both don't quite have all morning to sit around and gossip."

"Still not a morning person," Burt commented, and then added on. "I thought since you know, you've been into singing and all and now that that creepy Sandy guy isn't couching the Glee club, that you should try out. Would be good for you instead of living in your room and singing loud enough to break the vase."

"It was an ugly vase," Kurt defended himself before he added on. "You don't understand. Tryouts are crucial to me. I have to sing something that has a meaning of course, and I can't just—"

"Great." Burt cut him off and then took a bite into his sandwich before saying. "Sing the song you were singing when you broke the vase."

"If you say so…" Kurt murmured, taking a bite out of his sandwich. "Dear Prada, the _grease_ on this."

"Would you do me a favour, kiddo?" Burt began, standing up to stow his plate into the sink before he left to get to work. He watched Kurt sigh deeply before nodding his head. He hoped it wasn't _anything_ related to Burt's job because Kurt was not looking forward to giving the man tools whilst he worked on cars.

"Great," Burt smiled a sickly sweet smile, and then added on. "Shut your trap. Finish your breakfast, and sign up for Glee."

Kurt laughed, and watched the man leave only to shut the door behind him. He looked down at his breakfast, which he will not have of course simply because he was concerned that this one meal alone would clog his arteries. He left to get himself a bowl of Raisin Bran. He might just join Glee, he said, thinking of himself, but perhaps not. Just as Kurt had decided not to, his phone buzzed in his pocket and since Kurt was practically friendless except for a few token teddy bears and his Father, he knew that it had to be his Father.

Kurt looked down at his phone, and then sighed. His Father was really serious about Glee.

_After you're done with your Glee practice, come down to the shop and we'll go out to lunch to celebrate the fact that you actually went to Glee practice after I nagged you for all of three years._

* * *

_Dear Blaine A., _

_I haven't written to you in a while (not that you'd know considering that I have sent zero of the letters that I'd written to you). I've decided that as time had gone by, I'd sign and introduce my letters differently. _

_I've thought of you today when wearing a sweater that had a colour so bright I swore that the photoreceptors in people's cornea can no longer detect the colour year. I've heard some things about you from Dad but never quite checked up on you for a while, that you're in that all insanely disastrous West Lima school, and have grown to be a respectable young man (by my Father's standards). I don't really know what to think of it. I'm not the same boy you've met, and I fear for the life of me that if we ever meet again that you wouldn't be the same boy at all and that the sunshine I've found in my life came with the price of you losing yours._

_Perhaps, it's just me being paranoid. Fine. It's **probably** me being paranoid, but I can't really help it. _

_I went to Glee club auditions for the first time in my life. Unfortunately, I was not wearing the burn-into-your-soul bright yellow sweater as some bullies around in school threw a slushie at me (yes, this is a thing now) and therefore, damaging seventy-five percent of my wardrobe in the course of a year. This is calling slushying, synonymous with murdering. I preformed "Mr Cellophane" in the most absurdly coloured clothing, but eventually, I was gained admission into the **VERY GLEE CLUB!**_

_They thought that my voice was mesmerising. Okay, it is on certain days just that, and I kid you not I actually was about to die from delight when Mr Schue had accepted me into Glee. The day went by smoothly. My Father took me out for lunch, and basically gave me the 'I told you I was right all along' look, which was wiped away at night when I told him that if he was just a little patient with the toaster and waited a bit longer, his toast would actually taste better. Of course, I was right, and this concludes this riveting tale._

_Love, _

_Kurt H._

_PS. I GOT INTO GLEE CLUB._


	12. From Kurt, to Sebastian - Part 6

#12 – From Kurt, to Sebastian – Part 6

* * *

The Glee club had absurd choices when it came to song.

That was something that Kurt Hummel had realised the minute that he was made to sing "Le Chic" which was sure was only sung in the stone-age—then again, it was better than the debacle that was Rachel's idea of being sexy. Of course, his Father had heard of it, and now, Kurt was sitting behind the kitchen counter, trying to hide his face in the plentiful amount of honey-apple porridge he was preparing for himself.

He was cutting off slices of baked cinnamon apple filled with brown sugar that he'd prepared the night before. He'd made them just to avoid thinking of anything else. His anxiety levels were high, and his hands were shaking all of the time. He'd resulted into eating, eating healthy, eating junk food, just generally eating anything. His psychological hunger was getting to his pants yet again, as he'd gained a whole two and a half pounds in simply two days of excessive overeating.

He was trying to finish off the porridge as quickly as possible and head off before Burt can say anything. He was reading the paper, and Kurt had too. He knew it was about McKinley, and that was what he feared the most. He was just about to leave the room when Burt asked. "Kurt, what's the hurry? Sit down."

That voice – that authority-ridden voice that Kurt tried to avoid…he realised he couldn't. He finally gave in, and headed back towards the table, holding his bowl of porridge in one hand. His anxiety was running high. His heart was racing, his hands were sweaty, his hairline was filled with moisture and he'd been biting at his lower lip. He can feel the tremble in his knees, and the need to kill himself off. That sinking feeling in his stomach was just rendering him to painfulness. When he had such attacks of fleeting panic as a child, all he could do was curl up in his bed and hope to die.

"Kurt—"

Burt was cut off by Kurt, whose voice was ten times higher and faster. The air was knocked out of his lungs with every word that fell from his lips. "I swear I didn't know what I was thinking."

Burt was chuckling and Kurt felt the tightness in his chest getting worse, and he carried on. "Please, please, please, I literally did not know what I was thinking. Now, if you'd listen to me, you would've known that it was all Rachel's idea. All of it. I just was a victim, and I didn't want to be judged and I was scared and-and…"

"Calm down, sport," Burt placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder, earning a soft smile from the boy before him, whose eyes were beginning to fill. "Honestly, I won't talk about it if it's gonna trigger one of those, alright?"

Kurt nodded his head very slowly. Hot tears splashed down his face.

"You're going to school today?" Burt asked. Kurt commended him for not knowing how to handle Kurt when he was in this state.

Kurt still felt heart palpitations, and his hands were still jittery. His mind was still alert, but at least, he'd dulled down. His head was pounding, and he didn't want to go anywhere. "Yeah, I'm okay."

As Kurt got older, the world was more complex, and the depression seemed to get worse, switching from a mild state to a much more moderate depression. He remembered how he was as a child all the time. He did want to die, and he lacked pleasure but not to the point where he did not feel any happiness. He lacked pleasure most of the time, but swore to himself that he was only showing signs of depression at those stages. The thing about depression was that it was confusing. His state now was horrible compared to his state before, but it didn't mean his state before was not worrying.

He just didn't know, and he was fed up of this uncertainty that was in him right now.

"Kurt?" Burt broke Kurt out of his trance. "You sure?"

Kurt nodded his head, feeling dull. "Absolutely."

Burt sighed, shaking his head, and looking at his son with a raised eyebrow. "I really wish you'd tell me something that's true, you know? You keep on lying to me."

"I didn't lie!" Kurt snapped, his hands up into the air. "For me, this is a good state of mind. At least I'm not thinking of offing myself anymore!"

Burt stared at Kurt for a while, watching hot tears fill his eyes again. Kurt bit down his lower lip that was trembling far too much. He was humiliated, and he didn't know what to say. He felt like he was an attention seeker and a horrid son, but he didn't know what else to do. The amount of emotion he was filled with was weighing him down.

Burt sighed deeply, shaking his head. He was hurt too. "I guess you aren't going to school today." It was stated like a fact.

"Maybe not," Kurt responded softly.

Kurt's mood had stabilised after a few days. He took his pills, and he was in control for the most bit of his own emotions. He wasn't a representation of an empty body walking down the hallway with little response and emotion to everything. He had friends now, or the formation of some of them. He often still tried to avoid talking to Burt, because he didn't like the tension around them.

Kurt felt as if it was too easy to say something wrong, so he didn't. He didn't want to talk to anyone about his insignificant issues, most of which he made up in his mind. Speaking of said issues, they hit him straight in the face when he told Mercedes that he liked Rachel. That was such an anxiety inducing moment that he spat out the first name he can think of. He had honestly nearly dissolved into tears when she busted out his window. He remembered standing there in shock, frozen in state, and he found himself telling her that he needed to use the bathroom in which he dissolved into tears, wondering aimlessly why he can't have any friends, how wrong he was, how useless he was, how his crushes weren't important at all because it wasn't like Finn ever wanted to be with him.

His heart raced and he swore that his lungs were ready to pop out of his chest from how much pain they were in. He didn't know what to do. He just silently wept, wondering if his Father was ever going to forgive him for what he'd done.

Of course, when Burt saw the damage, the only thing he can do was glance at Kurt, rubbing his hand through the boy's hair, and shaking his head. Kurt said the story, spitting out the truth but excluding all parts of when he was checking out Finn. He felt filthy, and wrong for keeping that important part of it out.

"I was just talking to Mercedes, and she confessed to liking me but I didn't like her and I told her I liked Rachel because I do. I like Rachel, and then this had to happen, but I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I don't know what happened. She was really hot headed, and she busted the windows of my car. It's your fault anyway. I didn't say I wanted the car, but-but-but this doesn't mean I don't appreciate it, because I do—"

Kurt's throat was burning, and he didn't know what was happening. Hot tears were forming in his eyes for what felt like the five millionth time that week, and he swore he was fed up from crying. He was fed up from feeling so guilty all of the damned time.

"Calm down, kiddo," Burt shook his head, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Kurt, look at me."

Kurt looked up to meet with Burt's eyes, and then whispered. "Yes?" his throat was aching.

Burt nodded his head and then hugged Kurt as tightly as he could. Kurt nodded his head at Burt, whom was just rubbing Kurt's back as sweetly as he could.

"Good?" Burt asked.

Kurt nodded his head, feeling the worry in his chest die slightly. In ten minutes, he'd be less anxious. In an hour, he'd be fine again. He just needed to write a letter to distract himself, and he hadn't written to Sebastian in a while. "Yeah," his voice was raspy from all the talking.

"Good," Burt nodded once more, rubbing Kurt's shoulder. "Now, remember what I tell you about the ladies, alright? Don't piss them off."

Kurt snorted, appreciating his Father's attempts at making him feel better. "I appreciate your advice."

* * *

_Dear Gwen,_

_It's Peter again. Remember when you said that you didn't care if people saw us together as close to one another as we were and they'd think we were in love? Yeah, I do care. I care immensely for that. I am surprised that I can remember the smallest memories we have of one another, waiting for the bus stop. I'd always waited…every single day. Now, I drive my own car. _

_I've picked up a book again, something I've always done. Perhaps, I'd enhance my writing. Perhaps, it would always remain in this drab and monotone-like manner. I thought of you when Rachel was calling out her insecurities (gag—read: insignificant), and I thought of how you were waiting for someone to call you beautiful._

_Hello, beautiful._

_Love, Honour, Broken Car Windows (I may even tell you the story to this someday),_

_Peter Parker._


	13. From Kurt, to Blaine - Part 7

_yeah. i'm going to go stand in the corner shamefully for not updating for so long. there is going to be a major skimming through the session chapter next chapter, and then i'm going to focus on some of that angsty-ish Finn/Kurt things, and then we'll jump into some S02 stuff._

* * *

#13 – From Kurt, to Blaine – Part 7

* * *

_I want to be strapped down to a chair and regurgitate my dinner five hundred times. This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. You fucking idiot. How the hell could you tell him that you were on the football team? Look at you. You can't do anything. You can't be on the football team, because you're a gay little snot. That is literally all you are, a stereotype. You are a stereotype, Kurt. You don't deserve anything. And he has to parade around with you as a son. You. You as a son! Burt's being patient with you. He really wants to burn you in Hell for all of the sins you've committed. Look at your wardrobe. Look at what you wear. Do you really want to be detected from Venus, you whiny little shit—_

Kurt's thoughts were racing. He was lying down on his bed, panting and gripping tightly on the duvet that was spread across his bed. He'd been crying on and off for the last four hours. He can't believe what he said. How the fuck was he supposed to pull this off? He'd only spat out that he'd been on a football team on a fit of anxiety. When he heard "Single Ladies" on the radio a few minutes ago, he swore that it was a curse, and if he heard another Beyonce song in his life, he was going to lose it.

His stomach was hurting him, pulsing lightly with pain because he hadn't eaten properly. He was absolutely famished, but he also wasn't interested in food. He just curled up in his bedside, pressing his head against his pillow. Nobody quite realised how exhausting this was, how jaded and unclear the world was. It swallowed him whole, black and white, and everything was fuzzy with destructive darkness. A part of him was still breaking him down for his sexuality, which was suddenly disgusting and putrid. It was something that bothered Kurt even when he was awake, a constant thought on his mind but sometimes, he can push it away. However, times like these were times where the voice of depression was screaming at him incessantly, reminding him that he was worthless, a failure, a minute human being that didn't deserve anything. It was times like these that Kurt had to lie down on his bed, gripping tightly onto his covers in hopes that he would not end up killing himself.

Now, with the convolution of emotion he felt, a sudden surge of rage overtook his body and he grabbed the clock that he had in his nightstand that was ticking every second and threw it across the wall. It smacked, but didn't break. This only angered the brunette more as he moved towards the clock and smashed it into the wall repeatedly. He was exhausted, and the crying left his head pounding profusely with pain, but he hated everything and he wanted to make sure they realised how much of everything he hated.

The clock was in pieces when Kurt was done with it. It was then that Kurt somehow remembered that the reason he didn't throw that clock away from his room was because his grandmother had given it to him, and Burt loved that unfashionable piece of garbage so much that he thought that 'passing it down' to Kurt was going to make something. He was going to be so pissed at Kurt when he realised this, but somehow, Kurt didn't care. And another bigger part of him was burning with anxiety. He was gay, and he had a broken clock. What was he fucking complaining about? Some people actually had problems, and here he was, trying not to end his life over a stupid clock that _HE INTENTIONALLY BROKE_.

"Kurt?" Burt stood by the doorway before his eyes befell on the clattered mess of clock, clock and look – more clock pieces all over the floor that he recognised immediately. "What happened to the clock?"

It was just then that Kurt's fury was ignited, and not towards the fact that he broke the stupid clock, he was angry at Burt for asking that question – even if he'd asked it so lightly and innocently.

"Who cares about some stupid clock?" Kurt angrily snapped. He was not himself. This was purely the depression snapping back at his Father. This was hilarious. All these feelings were coming back, and it was all because he was actually living – because he got into Glee, and can sing now, everything was coming back – strong and sharp.

Burt can immediately tell that Kurt was in one of _those_ episodes. This probably wasn't going to end well as far as he was concerned. "Kurt, calm down, alright? Calm down."

Kurt slowly nodded his head, and Burt placed a hand on his son's shoulder, bringing him close. Kurt was shaking ever so slightly, and his eyes were full of so much pain that Burt wished he can take it all away from him.

"Kurt, I love you, kiddo. You know that, right?"

Kurt slowly nodded his head, but then shrugged. He had to face it up to facts – his Father had a fucked up son for life that needed to be medicated to be stabilised. This was not easy on Burt either. Burt rubbed Kurt's shoulder, and brought him close. Today was one of the more so horrible days in which Kurt had just been crying on and off for most of the day.

"Come on. Come down for dinner, alright? And we'll talk."

Kurt slowly nodded his head, and they both descended downstairs together. Burt's culinary skills, or lack of, meant that his Father can only offer him pizza he brought him. He cleaved half for Kurt, and half for himself, and Kurt snorted staring at the all-meat pizza. "I don't even want to ask why I have half a pizza right in front of me. Do I really look so corpulent that I can consume half a pizza?"

Burt snorted. "'Cause I know when you're in that kinda state, you eat next to nothing."

Kurt shrugged before slowly nodding his head. That was true for the most bit. They didn't really talk as Burt wanted; because Kurt was able to deflect every question he'd ask. Burt asked close-ended questions and Kurt wasn't doing anything to keep the conversation going. Kurt's anxiety for the next few days was running high. He'd managed to get Finn to get him on the football team. He'd managed not to screw up the audition. But in the process, he'd also managed to humiliate himself. Even in his football uniform, he looked like a girl. This was something that he was particularly self-conscious of. He looked feminine, and no matter what he did – he still looked feminine. He sounded feminine.

He had more episodes that week than he had in a while, which was frightening. Then the game night came and Kurt thought he was about to pass out from anxiety. His heart raced, his skin was pouring with sweat, and he swore that just staring at the field made him want to projectile vomit. Somehow, everything was okay, and they won, but that was when Kurt realised that he did not feel actual happiness – just a happiness projected by everyone else's happiness. He laughed and smiled, but the emptiness, it bubbled into his body. The night ended with a bang. Kurt was somehow impressed by what he'd done, but then his mind just reminded him he'd kicked a ball. He really didn't do anything impressive. His heart wasn't into football – the only male type sport that he was ever good at and it made him feel sick.

He'd humiliated the team when they'd done Beyonce. He'd humiliated Finn. His mind was simply fixated on that, and still was even as Burt took him home. He was happy – no, he was ecstatic, and Kurt felt like a mouse caught in a mousetrap, just completely overwhelmed. Then they were at home, and that was when Kurt realised that it was a no or never moment. He spat out a lie after lie, and swore that there was a bitter taste to such immoral acts. Then he said it, he finally said it. It didn't feel real when it was said to Mercedes as it did when he said to his Father. When his Father told him he knew, all Kurt can feel was sick, but he pushed that way. His Father didn't have to know that in his mind, he was just analysing how feminine he was – how he hated it.

Was it his fault that he liked these things? It had nothing to do with his sexuality albeit, but he was a stereotype. He liked feminine things and was gay. He wondered if he'd fooled himself into thinking that he was his sexuality. That was what he was doing as he laid in bed that night, just thinking about his sexuality, thinking about what he liked, and hating himself for his interests.

He sighed, kicked off his sheets, and looked for a pen and pencil. Might as well.

* * *

_Dear Blaine A.,_

_I am in a terrible place at the moment, and writing letters usually helps quell my so called pain. This is why I don't know if I can send any of these soon. It sounds like I'm fooling myself if I think that anyone cares about my irrational thinking but myself but really...the truth is Blaine, I don't like to complain about the bullying. It's not something that makes me feel horrible as it does. Follow my thought process now: I feel like they are doing me a favour because I deserve it, because I am a walking stereotype. Every single day, I could've chosen to wear something that will deflect the attention away from me. Instead, I wear about the most flamboyant (in both senses) clothing that anyone has ever witnessed, and then walk down the hallway as if I own the universe in the palm of my hand. Highly unlikely. _

_I'm not always in one of those depression episodes that seem to suck the life out of me. No. Most days I do have confidence, and I can push away these thoughts that fall into my mind about what I'm wearing and my sexuality (I say that my voice of depression is so weak it doesn't even matter), but then there are days like these, days where the voice is screaming at me and my thoughts are just running into places. I start to pick and prod at every single thing that is wrong with my life, and this makes me want to end it. In seconds, Blaine, in seconds – I can go from finding the idea of suicide insane to actually wanting to stop myself to do it. It is not a constant thought. It comes and goes, as it pleases, but in that moment that I feel like I have to die, it's strong. It's strong and it pulses into my veins until I can no longer breathe. Until I have to somehow find a way to destroy myself. Sometimes, it just gets so bad that I have to do it. The easiest way for me to do this is to pick up a cigarette from my Father's stash (of which he thinks I know nothing about, seriously, Dad) and just press it against my skin until the urge passes. Of course, when the urge passes, all you're left with is regret. I don't know why I'm writing this to you. I suppose I'm just **hoping** you cannot relate at all. _

_I can phone someone about this, but I just don't know. I'm not close enough with any of the New Directions for them to know that I'm this severely fucked up in the head. I just don't know anything at all._

_I'm scared I'm going to just snap one day. This feeling that I get when I'm in one of my episodes – it is so strong. It's unbelievably strong. I don't trust myself not to do it. My Father has a handful (i.e. is me), and I don't want it to be worse on him because he's already just barely coping with my moods. I don't want to tell him that even _I'm_ afraid that I might just snap one day and kill myself. I have various things in my room that might make this incredibly possible, and I can't take them away. My razors in the shower (I have not ever cut myself – if I do, I am convinced I will never stop), my sleeping pills in the lower drawer, my own anti-depressants that are not actually doing anything much to help (if I overdose on them, I do risk killing myself. I find this ironic that you'd give a person with a history such as mine a pill they can overdose and kill themselves with but really, you'd need something strong to stop me from thinking such things anyway)._

_What is the point?_

_Frustration (pardon me – no love was actually put into writing this letter, just a lot of negative emotion),_

_Kurt._


	14. From Kurt, to Sebastian – Part 7

#14 – From Kurt, to Sebastian – Part 7

* * *

Summary of the last few weeks in Kurt's perspective: 'do not accept alcohol from old women – specifically April Rhodes. Vitamin D is bad. Finn's love-life is as tangled as Kurt's hair in the morning and Finn still will not go out with him.'

Then, they had to mention Elphie. Kurt's heart was fluttering. This was the very musical he first saw when he got into singing due to the height of his depression. He must be the one to sing it. Rachel was all Funny Girl. She cannot have Wicked as well. Kurt was incredibly possessive all of a sudden. He felt furious. If anything in the world deserved that spot, it was him. For once, his Father was agreeing with him and things were starting to look up for him. He was going to win, hit that note that everyone doubted he could, and this was going to be one of the best experiences in his life.

Kurt thought that things were looking up then, but that phone call made Kurt lean backwards in realisation that all of his fears were true. He found himself crumbling at the thought of it during that performance. He did not hit that note. His Father was furious, and Kurt had to admit it. That was the first time in his life – Kurt realised, that he'd ever let anything of his insecurities slip towards his Father. This was only a tiny silver of his insecurities – what he was keeping back was far more than just a little uneasiness.

His Father knew it too. That day that Kurt had explained that he'd purposely let himself lose was the day that Burt was trying to speculate on every single thing.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Burt murmured, as he looked through the tools he had in that huge toolbox that could probably house all of Kurt's shoes – and that was saying something.

Burt's shop wasn't very big, but it wasn't too small either – Kurt had called it a tardis once. From the outside, it looked so minute but on the inside, so much bigger. Burt only raised his eyebrow, and Kurt had shrugged, not really explaining what he meant.

"Yeah," Kurt lied efficiently, though he didn't know how efficient the lie was if his Father still kept on asking him that question.

"You know," Burt began, rubbing his neck. "If singing and all that jazz doesn't work out for you, you should consider getting into acting because if I didn't know you, I'd have completely believed you. Unfortunately for you, kiddo, I know you better than I know myself."

"Well, that's debatable since myself is my actual self, what others think of me – that is you, and what I think of myself all tied up together in a knot. Unfortunately you only fit one category there, and I fit too. I am aware what I am and what I think I am and—"

"You aren't aware of what you can do though," Burt murmured, giving Kurt a wrench (there was something special about it that Kurt cannot remember) for him to hold whilst he looked for something else. "That's what makes you fail in knowing yourself. You don't recognise what you can and can't do, that's the problem with you. You're not the kind that wants to test those limits either. I had to go through thick and thin to push you in for this Glee club, you k now?"

Kurt was slightly surprised at his own Father's thought process. He smiled weakly, before nodding his head. "I know," he explained.

Then Burt's question was short, and curt. "How bad is it?"

Kurt knew what 'it' was. It could only be the depression really, and as far as Kurt was concerned, it wasn't _that_ bad that he can't eat at all, or was eating everything in sight (oh, how he loved both of them). It wasn't bad that he was sleeping all the time or wasn't sleeping at all. It was bad enough that his sleeping was a little lighter than usual, or a little longer than usual, or that he underrate by a bit, or overate by a bit. His scale, however, shifted, and apparently, he'd lost three pounds last week, but this week had gained half of that back this week. His sleeping was making him a little moodier, but overall, he was just fine he'd say.

"Not too bad," Kurt finally announced.

Kurt didn't expect Burt to wrap his arms around him and pull him close. "If it gets too bad, you'd let me know, right?" Kurt nodded his head, as he let Burt give him another piece of equipment before telling him to follow him towards the car they were working on.

Kurt actually loved the work. Yes, it was terrible on his clothes – the stains, the sweat, and all of such, but the scent of the gasoline, the feel of the metal, the colours, and the ability to get something working – it was nice. Besides, Kurt Hummel did enjoy a challenge. Though he did not know the names of any of them, he was smart enough to figure out simpler jobs, which was why he was instructed with changing the lights in the back of the car (which he did not know the name for).

Just as he was working on that, his mind was drifting. The task itself was menial by this point, something he worked on time and time again. He didn't know if it was bad, or how bad it would get. He had lost all his ability to measure how bad the depression was a long time ago. He used to have a system, and he supposed he needed to get one in line. His Father was worried.

"How are things with that Glee club of yours?" Kurt heard Burt ask, before Burt lit up a fag. Kurt stared at the cigarette, and then pursed his lips.

"Can I have one?" Kurt asked, only for Burt to raise an eyebrow. "It's alright. We only managed to break two school rules this week, and nobody was harmed during it. Well, um…no real harm."

Burt finally offered Kurt a cigarette and his lighter along with it. Kurt lit his up, only to take a drag of the intoxicating smoke and then shook his head before offering it back to his Father whom was just laughing.

"Why did you let me do that?" Kurt swore that one puff of that smoke was enough to make him roll over in a blanket and die. "It tasted terrible! Absolutely terrible!"

"'Cause I knew it was going to bug you until you have one, and plus, I knew you wouldn't like it at all so I thought why the hell not?" Burt responded with a sheepish smile.

Kurt glared over at his Father, before he found himself snorting. "I suppose you really can say that you know me better than I know myself."

Kurt went back to working on the car, and was done with his job rather quickly – or really, quicker than usual. His Father was still working on a car that Kurt to be very appealing to his eyes. He'd never really looked at the cars they brought in – it all looked like scrap to him, but this one was rather nice-looking. "I like the car you're working on – I mean, how it looks."

"Really? You'd trade the one you have for this one?" Burt asked. Of course, Burt knew how the car looked like – he knew how every car that was brought in looked like, drank it up as if each of them had their own personality. It was pure insanity.

"No!" Kurt exclaimed, shaking his head. "The one I have is my baby. Though if my baby was to drive off a cliff, then I'd love to have this one."

Burt laughed and Kurt found himself flushing rather adamantly. "You ever let me tell you the story of the Mercedes Benz?"

"Is that what this is?" Kurt asked, staring at the car before noticing the logo. Oh. Yes.

"Yeah," Burt finally said, moving from his position. "Think about what this car was made, Kurt – about 127 years ago. You think they had a car back then? No. This was the first car of its kind, not this line of cars in particular, but the Mercedes Benz. You see, this guy called Karl – he basically invented it into a society that believed in witchcraft and demons and all of that jazz. They thought it was the work of the Devil, and refused to listen to that dude talk about it and all of that. So, you know what his wife did? She took his car over to drive to a house 100 kilometres away. Amazing, ain't it? Think about it. This woman doesn't know how to drive. Think of how hard it was for that chick to get there, but she did it. And people started to like the idea of going there with a car, so they did it. It was a success. The name was after his daughter. His name was Karl Benz, and his daughter, well…"

"Mercedes," Kurt announced with a slight flush to his cheek. "If whomever is gonna marry Mercedes in the future not get her that car, then I will lose it."

Burt shook his head before pulling himself up from under the car with a smile on his face. "Did the Kurt Hummel just combine cars with romance?"

Kurt realised this only to gasp in mock. "Wow, I really do bear some sort of semblance of relation to you!"

"Yeah, you missed my good looks gene," Burt jokingly responded, and Kurt shook his head, laughing lightly at his Father's statement.

Burt had decided to close up shop. It was getting impeccable late, and they descended down back towards their house where Kurt was to ask his Father about the money he was promised for helping out. Burt handed him over a good standard of money. Kurt was actually ridiculously overpaid – adorable son's advantage. They ate dinner, and Kurt forgot that that morning he'd just been crying his eyes out mindlessly.

After that dinner which included a lot of heart-fattening foods, Kurt had ascended upstairs just to pick up a book to read. His book choice nowadays was not so random as before that he'd just pick off any book from the shelf. Right now, anything that contained a mental disorder as a topic was immediately into Kurt's hands, and he found himself reading without many stops or breaks. It was all fiction, but somehow, it felt real printed out in pages. He'd not gotten a book about depression yet (he was far too afraid of what that may trigger), but he was reading a book about borderline personality disorder.

He consumed the pages by the hour, and found himself done with the book at one am. Though he had school, it was hard to fall asleep. This week had been a week where sleeping was getting harder, and it had been escalating over time. He didn't want to start another book, so he had just wandered off towards Facebook. It was just an impromptu thought that came to his mind, but he found himself looking up Jean Smythe, and then he landed into a fan-page about the company he owned.

_I should have known, _Kurt found himself looking through the statuses. Most of them were promotional. Somehow, in the back of his mind, Kurt remembered how they first met. Sebastian was cold, and Kurt gave him a scarf. Sebastian thought that Kurt was attempting to strangle him. The thought of it now made Kurt's stomach drop. This was a boy no older than six or seven that he'd met, and he was too afraid to make a friend because he thought that his friends would _murder him_. Kurt looked at the page, and then looked through pictures. None of them were anything that were particularly suspicious. He sighed. He was honestly hoping he can get a picture of Sebastian now. He sighed deeply, and just gave in. He could search for Sebastian, but he thought it would be odd to add him as a friend. However, he supposed his courage (or stupidity – he cannot decide which one) decided that he wanted add Sebastian as a friend.

He found him immediately and smiled warmly to himself. "Caught you," he said to particularly no one. His profile picture was a dead giveaway, that narrow, thin face and lovely green eyes. He added Sebastian as a friend, and just hoped he'd accept. Judging by his over 500 friends (which he doubted he knew all of), he realised that he may just get lucky tonight (not that he was referring to anything sexual.)

* * *

_Dear Gwen,_

_I found you on Facebook. You look beautiful in your profile picture – what with your stunning smile, gorgeous brown locks, and soft green eyes. I hope that a lot of people tell you you're beautiful though I say that I might just be jealous of that. I might be just jealous of you – but I know your story, and I know what happened to you, how people hurt you and how you little self-esteem you had then. I hope that was a thing of the past. I just really…really beyond anything else—hope that you're safe now. _

_Love, Honour and Wishes,_

_Peter Parker. _


	15. From Kurt, to Blaine – Part 8

#15 – From Kurt, to Blaine – Part 8

* * *

Kurt Hummel can remember that day that Blaine Anderson didn't want to draw in very clearly that morning. Somehow, today, he was trying to figure out what Blaine had drawn when he'd crumbled up the paper. He remembered Blaine had issues as well. He was very shy, didn't like to speak much to others, and also unfortunately reminded Kurt of himself. He remembered that specific day in which he had acted erratically after his Mother's death. He remembered these memories as if they'd happened recently, sharp, vivid, and with excruciating detail. He lay on his king-sized bed, staring at the light coloured ceiling. For one, his room was a complete and utter mess, but he simply did not care enough to clean anything.

He was getting complacent. His homework was calling out to him and lay on a desk, and a Chemistry project he had to do was beckoning him to be completed. Instead, here he was, lying on his bed, and thinking of memories he had with a boy named Blaine. He didn't have many of them though his Father was Kurt's tutor. He thought back to that specific memory and realised that there was something wrong with Blaine, something that he had to fix in that ravenette.

Speaking of ravenettes, his mind instantly wandered towards Finn. He'd been back to reading, and his writing was getting better though he was not much of a writer in the first place. It showed in his assignments, and his grades were higher than ever before. They were actually as high as Noah Puckerman in the boys' locker room on a Friday afternoon. The only thing he did like writing though were his letters, and he hoped that with his new found vocabulary, and incredible increase in linguistics he'd be able to write better letters as well. He actually thought of writing letters more than he did write them in all its irony.

He stepped out of that bed of his that smelled like a very small family of rats had died in there. He needed to do something with himself. He needed to better himself. He realised the contradiction in his character. He claimed that he did not choose to be gay, yet was trying to turn Finn straight. This was making that cold knot in his stomach whenever he went to sleep. He tossed and turned at night just because of that one thought. The episodes were getting stronger, but the wait between each of them was longer than before so far. Kurt wondered if this was a good thing, or a bad thing. He knew he can now hide any evidence of his episodes more eloquently, though there were still _those_ questions.

That night, he had braved a call to a man he didn't call in a long time – Joseph Anderson.

He honestly didn't know why he wanted to call. He couldn't call Blaine because he and him barely had any history, so it would be an awkward call. However, he and Joseph Anderson did have a long, fleshed-out history that validated Kurt's call. When he heard the standard 'Hello?' from the other end of the line, he finally found himself able to smile though it was weak and meaninglessly.

"Hello, Mr Anderson," Kurt sounded a little softer than normal as he spoke. "I don't know if you remember me, but it's—"

"Kurt Hummel!" his ex-tutor had called out. He can nearly feel the man's smile through the phone. "I'm sorry, Kurt, but you haven't quite changed in vocal resonance since I've last seen you years back. Though I do have to comment on the fact that this call was certainly a surprise."

Kurt found himself lightly flushing rather brightly at the comment about his very little change in voice. He sighed deeply. "How are you, sir?"

"Quite well!" he sounded far too enthusiastic for what Kurt was used to. "How is your depression? Is it worse? Is it better?"

The man remembered then. Now that he was told to describe the cycle of depression he was caught into, he didn't know how to respond. He was honestly just caught there, thinking for a few seconds before responding. "Well, it got better after you last saw me, and when I had a pill change, it was actually mostly gone, but now, for some reason, even with my dosage, it's just escalating out of control. I'm back to square one really, though shockingly, I think it's because I have more of a social life now, and I have new expectations. I think that before I was pretty lonely, and though this contributed a bit, I had nobody have any expectations of me. A rise in my anxiety levels, however, mean a rise in the depression as well for me."

"Oh, terrible-sounding," Joseph's voice was soft. "Have you thought of possibly switching medication?"

"My therapist gave me that offer, but most other medications are incredibly expensive, and my Father thinks they're too strong – when he heard that a lot of them are also used to treat schizophrenics, he was not up for it at all. He thinks that it's too risky, and even without that, we still cannot afford to refill my prescription if I change it up. We tried upping the dosage, and in all honesty, it made me suicidal, so they dropped it back down. I don't even know why I'm on them anymore in all honesty. I think it's more of a comfort thing for my Father to know I'm taking something and not just going about depressed."

Kurt hadn't expected to say any of that, much less all of that. It was ridiculously easy to talk to Joseph. It always was for some reason, and this rendered him both confused and rather angered due to his confusion. Anger he was used to right now.

"Oh," Joseph responded, sounding distressed at the lack of options. "That's drab. If you need any money, I'd gladly give some to you—"

"You know my Father," Kurt's voice was soft. "He always mentions our money situation just in case he stops taking me to my therapist, or stops getting my prescription. He hasn't had the heart to do any of those. It's easy for us to have junk food in the house and for him to risk his health – the man has high cholesterol. Like my Mother. And he knows she's died from it, yet this is not important to him as long as I get my prescription and visit to a therapist every week or so, but you know he won't take money. People have unsuccessfully attempted."

"Oh, yes, I remember now," Joseph muttered under breath. Kurt had slid down on his bed, automatically crossing one leg over the other and tapping his foot against the floor. He glanced at the door – shut tightly, and from what he remembered, locked. "How has school been? I mean, your Father's talked about home-schooling you quite a bit when I was around…is that on board or—?"

Kurt cut him off to explain things. "McKinley," he finally announced. "Things have been good – well, it's school so as good as it could be when I'm in the most insane Glee club ever. Actually, I have a few stories to tell you. Starting with the last one I can recall, we did ballads, and I got a hot hunk that doesn't find me attractive at all. However, he's actually been leaning towards me. Save for the fact that I accidentally got his girlfriend kicked out of the house because I made him sustainable to opening up to her family. That was a week from Hell. I didn't want to school just so I wouldn't have to face seeing him. Logically, I knew I didn't make him do stupid moves, but I was…a bit annoyed at how I let a childhood crush get in the way of everything."

"Ah, so the blaming yourself for things you had no control of is still there," Joseph didn't sound too pleased to hear that, and Kurt can detect it from his voice. The brunette had raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't know you knew about that." Kurt had announced, voice a little lower than normal.

Joseph chuckled lightly, but Kurt felt a clench in his heart instead. His eyes were bubbling over with hot tears. He felt betrayed. He felt confused, and overall, he was just angry. The rage was pulsing into his stomach and accumulating in his heart. It was colicky, and made him feel weak. "'Course. Kurt you tried to keep things to yourself, but we can all tell you had a habit of blaming yourself for things that were out of your control."

"Like my Mother's death?" Kurt finally had snapped. His voice was harsh and cold.

There was silence on the other end for some time before Joseph asked. "Kurt…you _can't_…blame yourself for your Mother's death," the man's voice was soft, and he sounded incredibly disheartened. "I didn't know. I didn't think that thoughts like that were in your head."

Kurt was silent for a while. _Course. Kurt you tried to keep things to yourself_…that statement repeated itself in his head. Yeah. Joseph Anderson was wrong, terribly wrong. Kurt did keep things to himself and he did so successfully. The thought of Joseph thinking that he had Kurt figured out made the brunette incredibly angry. Joseph apparently didn't want to end their first conversation in a while on such a bad note.

"Do you have any more things you want to tell me about Glee club?" Joseph asked, hoping for a response from the brunette.

"We went through Sectionals and we won," Kurt's voice sounded dull now. He was still harbouring a lot of hatred, as he talked about Glee. "And I joined the Cheerio's – it's like this cheerleading team, with my friend, Mercedes. See? I'm _fine_," he spat out the last word as if it was a curse.

"Kurt…" Joseph sounded apologetic already. "Just meet me next week. How about I pick you after school? We can talk. You choose the subject. I just need to see you. I would like to rekindle our relationship. You were always as special to me as Blaine was to me."

Kurt softened quickly, and the pain in his chest was weaker now, though it did not go away. There was still a chance it could intensify very quickly. He pursed his lips and then asked, "How's Blaine?"

"Blaine is…" Joseph rubbed his neck. "I don't actually know how he is in this particular moment. He goes to Dalton. I only ever see him in the summer and on rare occasions, the weekends, but he's doing fine for the most bit. He has a lot of friends. Happy chap really."

Kurt found himself weakly smiling at the thought of a happy Blaine. He couldn't help but feel like Joseph was hiding something for him that was relevant about Blaine. Surely, that shy boy that spoke like he could understand Kurt's problems didn't have problems of his own? It was one day that he had left, and Blaine had told him not to let the bad thoughts get to him, that they would hurt him that made Kurt skeptical about how normal Blaine was. Kurt had been stripped out of normalcy a long time ago. That was something he was aware of, but he was unsure of how normal Blaine was.

"I have a lot of homework," Kurt murmured. Joseph had his goodbyes, and Kurt his own before he shut the phone off. His eyes were then wandering to Finn's number. When he'd gotten it, nothing but shock had overwhelmed him. He felt good about it, but now, staring at it he felt nothing but anger, because he could not get Finn out of his mind. He was a constant fascination. He wondered about Finn, and then he wondered about Blaine. Thinking of Finn often made him think of Blaine, and he didn't know why. They had the same mysterious nature about them. Finn was not as straight forward as he appeared, and that was something he knew right from the start.

The thing was that Kurt knew it himself that he only seemed to be drawn to mental issues, and he didn't want to think that they had any of them. He wondered…he shook his head. He knew for a fact that this was why people like Quinn, Rachel, Puck, Mercedes, Artie, Matt, Brittany and Tina didn't quite the bill but when he thought of Finn, all he can think about what was wrong with him. He sighed deeply. He saw his Father open the door and ask him if he wanted dinner. It was then that Kurt wanted to snap at him, because if he had anymore food, his jeans would not fit, but he still nodded his head and said he'd go downstairs in a minute.

He needed a plan of action. He needed Finn. He didn't know why, but he was drawn to Finn for some reason, as he was drawn to Blaine and Sebastian. He was somehow always on his mind, and he didn't quite know why but he was determined to figure it out.

* * *

_Dear Blaine A.,_

_There's this boy I know that makes me think of you and Sebastian quite a bit – today, it was mostly you. Sometimes, I relate him more to Sebastian than you. It's this boy called Finn Hudson. I think he's a lot like you because firstly, of his features, dark hair, dark eyes, brilliant smile (that can make you melt into a puddle of sunshine that very quickly becomes a stream of rainbows as he continues to speak about his love for video games). Alright, not that I'm telling you about my crush on this boy (it was obvious, wasn't it?)as much as I'm trying to explain why I remember both of you when I look at him._

_Features aside, he is a boy that has habits most people don't recognise. Like you. You have a few qualities that should rise concern but doesn't. Finn is the same. He has a few qualities that most people don't realise. His mood for example is something I've been observing. He looked so done today, so fed up, yet nobody had even approached him and I don't think he was counting for anyone to comfort him. It's absolutely terrible. I think he's learned to keep to himself. I believe he has a history of people shoving him off about it. _

_Also, this other boy named Sebastian that reminded me of him – in terms of self-perception, Finn has a very low self-esteem come to think about it just as Sebastian did. He also very guarded about what he says. He thinks he's grotesque (I assure you he is absolutely perfect and gorgeous in every single way), and he often tries to diet._

_Now, here is the part that I am concerned about. Now that I'm writing this letter I'm actually evaluating his eating habits. He has strange eating habits that I should pay more attention to now that I think about it. I just worry that whatever is wrong with him, he'll never tell me because he loathes me and he'd be suffering in silence. And then one long day, he will just snap, and everyone will think he's overreacting but he would not be. It's confusing, isn't it?_

_Oh, and I talked to your Father today. He said you were happy. This makes me surprisingly overjoyed. I hope you stay happy for a very long time. God knows that you of all people deserve it. _

_Love,_

_Kurt _


	16. From Kurt, to Sebastian – Part 8

#16 – From Kurt, to Sebastian – Part 8

* * *

Hips like a pear. That was all he was. Hips like a pear. It made him want to gnaw his skin off his hips – oh, sorry, fat. His eyes were staring at the mirror, and he slid the measuring tape over his hips. 39 inches of _hip_. That had to be a female's hips – surely, it can't be _his_. He wandered the measuring tape over his waist, 34. Okay. Panic time. He knew that he wasn't a female, and it wasn't that he looked fat, but yes, he was incredibly chubby in his opinion. It wasn't like he looked like he had 39-inch hips. He was a man for God's sake, with an incredible height difference as opposed to a female. Thirty-four inches on his waist, and thirty-nine inches on his hips looked differently on him than it did on a female, and it surely looked differently on him than a boy that was 5'6. He was 5'11. He had to remember that.

5'11.

No. He failed in remembering that already. He turned around to assess his body, drinking up his features before he sighed deeply. Fine. He was not fat, but he was chubby as far as he was concerned. Maybe. Perhaps, or maybe it was all the layers that he wore? That didn't really do him a favour now, did it? He wanted to destroy the mirror, and for the same time again and again, one of his more so triggers was unleashed. He hated that he cared about how he looked, that he was slightly feminine in the face of the average male, and he wanted to scratch his face off for that. His rosy cheeks, his soft features. He wanted to look like a man but instead, he looked like a faerie.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the mirror. He wished he can just tear down everything that was remotely feminine in his room, but he liked it. He liked the feminine stuff, but then again, he was just a stereotype, wasn't he? He sighed, shaking his head. Well, at least today wasn't one of the more so hysterical days. His eating habits were mostly back on track. He found himself trying to distract himself by going on Facebook, and his heart stopped when he realised that Sebastian had actually accepted his friend request that he'd  
sent.

Kurt's first reaction was to open up the boy's Facebook page. He was going to do some picture stalking for now. Kurt never quite looked at statuses, but he _loved_ looking at pictures. He found himself looking back and forth at Sebastian's pictures. He was scared that he can so easily find bruises on Sebastian in all of them. His hands were filled with bruising. Kurt cannot get over the boy's thinness for the moment – maybe it was because he was assessing his own thinness a few seconds ago. He was so tall and lanky. Kurt nearly wanted to hammer him into a shorter height and a larger size.

What got him though was stumbling on a photo of Sebastian standing next to a girl in a bikini. According to the caption, he was with his aunt. His aunt was short, and had quite a bit on her actually now that he looked at her more closely. It was adorable though. Sebastian was holding a glass of what appeared to be lemonade, and was tilted to the side. Kurt's eyes were on the huge bruise that was on Sebastian's hip that others didn't seem to notice and then again a cut on his shoulder. Okay, that one was a bit less visible, but it was still pretty visible to the brunette, but then again, he was looking for signs of Sebastian's cuts. Kurt found himself thinking about his hips again and staring at Sebastian's – well, he can't really find his hips. They were practically none existence. He was a straight line, a sheet, a pencil.

When Burt walked in Kurt, the brunette quickly looked up to see that man smile at him before sitting down beside him. Burt's hand was on Kurt's shoulder. "What are you doing?" Before Kurt can answer, Burt caught sight of the screen. "Is that Jean Smythe's son?"

"How did you know that?" Kurt quickly asked.

"I only know one Smythe, and his name is pretty damned known," Burt explained with a sheepish smile.

Kurt looked back at the photo he had. He was aware Burt was looking at the measuring tape, and Kurt's scales were out, and he was probably only making the problem worse when he pointed to the screen only to inquire about Sebastian's body type. "Is he thin?"

Burt grimaced. "Too damned thin actually," the brunette can't tell if his Father was saying that just to get him off the idea of ever looking like something akin to Sebastian, but he didn't think he wanted to ask that question. "Kurt, you don't need to lose any weight. You were a cute kid – yeah, you were chubby—"

"Fat—"

"A bit overweight," Burt corrected, and then added on. "But kiddo, the more you've been growing up, the more weight you've been losing. Yeah, you were a heavy kid, but you just barely gained weight from when you were a kid to now. As I see is that you're getting taller all the time damn, but your weight won't budge."

Kurt had shut his laptop off, and placed his head in his hands.

Burt pulled Kurt's chin up. The brunette was glad he wasn't crying – just tired. "Come on, get ready, kiddo. I'm going to take you to that school thing we're supposed to go to, alright? And I don't want to be stuck alone with that creepy History teacher of yours. Boy can that chick talk and talk…and talk. And then we're getting pizza, alright? No exceptions. No dieting, Kurt."

Kurt nodded his head before pursing his lips. "But we are _not_ ordering that deep dish stuff. Diet or not, I am _not_ clogging up my arteries."

"Fair enough," Burt pulled Kurt out of his bed, whom was tired enough to actually fall asleep right there and then. The brunette had sighed and left to get ready. Midway, he caught himself thinking of Finn, whom he knew would be there. Along with his Mother. If this was some story book romance then he can put Finn's Mother and his Father together, and they'd find things in common and fall in love and Kurt would be as close as ever to the ravenette that he seemed to be find so enchanting.

Wait, what if he could? It was worth a shot right. No, no, that was insane. That was the illogical part of him that was making up stories again, about how he can bring back some semblance of a maternal figure back into his life and have Finn as well. His heart was fluttering in his chest at the thought, but what if he could? He felt deeply attached to Finn. It was worth a shot, wasn't it? It was definitely worth that. In his mind, he can just imagine their picture perfect family already. He'd have Finn to stare at every time he woke up from bed, and a Mother that can understand Kurt's depression and maybe comfort him a bit better than Burt can. He thought of some nights he spent throwing things around because of rage, and his Father wasn't around, how close he was to killing himself on those days – those pills on the table, and his stomach felt queasy. He didn't want to be left alone at a house anymore.

Then again, why have hope for something that would just barely happen? Still…he should try.

After he got dressed, Burt yelled at him to get in the car quick because he took up too much time. Kurt took one more glance in the mirror – his hips though. He really didn't like them. He had fled soon afterwards, and found himself on his phone where Mercedes had sent him a text about what he was wearing tonight. He sent her a text about what she ate today, and when she didn't reply, his stomach hurt him because he realised that she probably didn't eat much at all, and the little that she did eat was not something that he may want to hear.

He had nudged her again, demanding a response from her but she didn't respond at all. He placed his phone in his pocket, and wandered around with his Father before finding Carole.

"You're unusually happy today," Burt finally decided to comment, staring at Kurt, rubbing his shoulder. "Meds finally working? You were worrying me."

"Dad, we're in public," Kurt said in a hushed voice. He did not like it when Burt did this. He did not like anyone possibly finding about the depression at all. The thought repulsed him mindlessly. "And yes, they're finally working. I'm looking for someone."

_"Someone?" _Burt looked nearly overprotective. "What's his name?"

"It's not like that," oh, Kurt can only wish it was like that. He hated lying to his Fathers about his pills though. They were as useless as popping candy to make him feel better. He finally found Carole and Finn side by side each other. He felt a sudden overwhelming sense of guilt for Quinn's situation whenever he looked at Finn, but this time, somehow, he was still walking towards them and offering them a smile. He introduced Carole to Burt, and they seemed to be chattering on and on, so that left Kurt with Finn.

"Wow," Finn wasn't listening to their conversation from what Kurt knew about the incredibly tall ravenette. "They're like really into each other."

"Yeah," Kurt said nearly dreamlessly. Maybe this can work. Maybe things can work out after all. Maybe he didn't have to be sad, or lonely, or unhappy. Maybe there was a little bit of hope to invest into something. He looked up at Finn with big blue eyes. "How are you?"

"Alright I guess," Finn announced towards the brunette. "How are you?"

Kurt's heart skipped a beat. He honestly didn't know three people in his life can be such a huge source of his life – Finn, Blaine and Sebastian. They seemed to be always on his mind, whether he was aware of it or not. He found himself staring at the ravenette for a while before responding. "I'm better than I have been in a while."

"Me too," Finn announced before looking down at Kurt with those lovely, lively brown eyes that held so much truth and humour and _innocence_ in them that Kurt just couldn't take it. Kurt's phone buzzed, and he looked at it only for his face to pale. He realised that Finn leaned down to read the text too. "What's that?"

"What Mercedes ate today," Kurt stared at it for a long time, trying to digest the fact that she actually had that little, a bit of cucumber, three rice cakes, and four pieces of toast. That was barely anything as far as the brunette was concerned. "I'm just hoping that when Coach Sylvester weighs her this week, and she'd have lost a bit of weight that she would just stop because this is _insane_."

Finn nodded his head, but looked away guiltily, and now, Kurt's stomach was twisting. Finn was probably on one of those kinds of diets a lot then judging by his reaction. "We were going for pizza after this," Kurt announced all of a sudden just to fill the awkward silence.

"Dude, we going to go for pizza too!" Finn added with a grin.

"Maybe we can go together?" Kurt looked at the duo that were still chattering and looking animated. Burt laughed and Kurt's heart raced. He hadn't heard his Father laugh like that in a long time. "I suppose our parents wouldn't mind," he explained with a sheepish smile.

"Yeah," Finn's voice was a little low. "I guess."

Kurt can nearly hear the sound of Finn not wanting them to do anything together, but he tried to ignore it…tried being the keyword here.

* * *

_Dear Gwen,_

_You've accepted my friend request! I had an evening of diligent photo stalking that was in order. Quite jealous of your rather thin frame, but I have noticed your bruises, your cuts, and on some occasions, your burns that other people seem to dismiss entirely me. This…worries me. This worries me so much I feel sick just thinking about it actually. My heart just seems to race and I seem to panic staring at them. They are startling, some of them. How are you still getting bruises I'm just wondering? Considering that you haven't lived with your Mother in a while from what I heard…but even in recent pictures you've had them. Something tells me that it's not just your Mother's boyfriend that loves painting your roses red then (Alice in Wonderland reference to describe the abundance of cuts and other inflictions that mar your body)._

_What I do worry though is that some part of me just keeps on thinking that you have body issues, like Finn has body issues. Finn may not be as lanky as you are, but what I did notice today was when we were going out for pizza (also known as the Devil's food for how immorally addictive it is), I ended up polishing off 4 slices. I'm in one of my overeating moods, and Finn was sitting there picking off the toppings on his pie and sipping Diet Coke. Sometimes, he'd put one or two of those toppings in his mouth, but really, he was just dissecting the pie bit by bit – leaving mozzarella on one side, the crust on one side, and the vegetables assorted and the meats all alone. Sometimes, he'd plop in a vegetable every now or a piece of meat. He never touched the cheese, and he picked off some potatoes from the side salad that I had in attempts to eat healthily. It's just… disheartening. I can't help but feel as if something is majorly wrong with him. I'm talking in terms of disordered eating or eating disorders now. I'm just going to monitor him more closely from now on. I have a feeling I'm not going to like what I understand from it at all._

_I got his Mother and my Father together though, and they were happy. They were laughing, but Finn looked like he was focusing more on the meal and how bored he seemed. He wasn't ready to give his Mother away I'm guessing. _

_I'm hoping you're doing well and that your beatings aren't as bad. In more so recent photos, I have noticed you were covering your body more so – jackets, jeans, shirts, anything that would hide your arms or your legs, and I worry about what's underneath there that needs to be covered so boldly. _

_Love, Honour and Pizza, _

_Peter Parker._


End file.
